


Everything Changes

by electroswings



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Pregnancy, Pregnant Anders, Unplanned Pregnancy, rating will go up in time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 27,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3873565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electroswings/pseuds/electroswings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders was sure he was infertile; drinking darkspawn blood just does that a person. Then one day he finds out that things aren't as certain as they appear. From a request on the kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was a well-known fact of life in Thedas that all mages, regardless of anatomy, could conceive and bear children. In southern Thedas it was seen as another sin, another mark of the Maker's hatred for them, and this fact was used to control those mages in the Circle. Babies were born, often as the result of "dubious consent" as the Templars called it, and then taken away from the birth parent, never to be seen again. It was a fact of life, and one that Anders was all too happy to leave behind. Sure, Kirkwall was crawling with Templars, but he was a free man, so to speak. Varric's contacts and the Ferelden refugees he healed every day made sure he was never found. 

That's not to say that Anders didn't want children of his own someday, but being a possessed apostate runaway Warden living in the sewers of Darktown wasn't the best way to raise a child. Everything else aside, being a Warden didn't help him much there - drinking darkspawn blood effectively made him more barren than the deserts in western Orlais. Still, he thought about it, whenever a pregnant woman came in for a check-up, or whenever he had to knit a child's broken bone together. He would lie awake at night and think of things that might've been, before fitful sleep would claim him. 

Everything changed when he met Fenris. It was dislike at first sight - the elf was stubborn, angry and hated mages. He was also stupidly attractive. He and Anders were at each other's throats constantly and it wasn't long before they fell into bed together...and then they were at each other's throats again, in a manner of speaking. Hawke was always telling them to find better ways to let go of their anger, and what better way to do that than to fuck each other stupid? Precautions were never taken - why bother preventing something that was never going to happen? And so it went. Anders and Fenris went on adventures with Hawke by day, sniping and snarking at each other all the while, and fell into bed by night, bruising and biting, never staying long in each other's company after they found release. 

Everything changed when they came back from the Deep Roads.

He woke up groggy and nauseous, feeling like a wrung-out rag. Sweat prickled on his skin despite the cold air of his small bedchamber in the back of the clinic. For a long while Anders lay in the gloom with one arm flung over his face, willing the nausea to pass. His stomach churned angrily and with a jolt he sat up, leaned over the side of the bed, and emptied the contents of last night's meager dinner into the chamber pot. Shaking and spitting up acid he retched until there was nothing in him, and then he collapsed in a sweaty heap, hanging halfway off the bed, the thin blanket and sheets a tangled mess around his legs.

And then someone knocked on the clinic door.

Anders groaned and swore under his breath. The knocking continued, louder this time, and then a voice called out.

"Anders? Are you in there?" Lirene. Anders hauled himself upright with another groan, his vision swimming as vertigo hit him like a wave.

"I'm here," he rasped weakly in response, before clearing his throat. "I'll be there shortly." For a long moment Anders sat, hunched, and calmed his ragged breathing. Ignoring the way his head pounded he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stumbling over to the curtain that partitioned his private quarters from the rest of the clinic. Shuffling past the cots Anders reached out a hand to steady himself on the wall while he unlocked the clinic door. Lirene stood outside, clutching a shawl around her shoulders against the Darktown chill, a touch of worry in her brown eyes.

"There you are. Some of the refugees were by and said that you--Maker's breath, Anders, you look terrible. Are you alright?" Anders looked down at himself, at his sweat-soaked shirt, bare feet and lank hair. He chuckled humorlessly.

"I had a rough morning, Lirene. What time is it?"

"Mid-morning. Some of the refugees were by and saw that the clinic was closed; they came to me because they were concerned about you. Are you sure you're alright?" She reached a hand up and pressed her palm against Anders' forehead. "You're warm. Paler than usual. Sit and rest and I'll send someone down with tea and breakfast." Anders blinked at her in surprise as she pushed her way past him and shut the door.

"But-"

"No arguing. You look like you're about to collapse." She took his arm and led him away from the door. Anders went with her with only mild resistance as he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Lirene brought him over to a cot and helped him sit. Unfolding the blanket that Anders had placed there the night before, she wrapped it around his shoulders and took a step back. "I know how dedicated you are to helping the refugees, Anders, but I think you should consider taking the day off. I haven't seen anyone look this dreadful since my sister was with child and vomiting at all hours of the day." Anders huffed a laugh.

"I don't think we have to worry about me being with child, Lirene." He shivered and pulled the blanket tighter across his shoulders. Lirene shook her head and brushed his hair from his forehead with a measure of tenderness that brought a tired smile to Anders' face.

"Perhaps not. Stay here and rest. I'll send tea and food down and I expect you to eat as much as you can." Anders nodded.

"Yes, ma'am." Satisfied, Lirene shifted the shawl on her shoulders and turned to leave the clinic. The door opened, closed, and then Anders was alone again.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Lirene's volunteer arrived bearing lukewarm tea, half a loaf of buttered bread and two apples, Anders' stomach had settled considerably. He had stripped out of his sweaty shirt and tossed it onto the pile of laundry to be scrubbed, wiped the grime from his skin with a warm rag, and gotten dressed for the day. After thanking the man and sending him on his way (with all the healing potions and elfroot poultices he had in stock, to be distributed at Lirene's shop), Anders sat at his desk to eat breakfast and go over his manifesto. Justice rumbled discontentedly in the back of the man's mind as he sipped at his tea.

**We have work to do. There are people who need our help.**

"Not now, Justice," Anders said tiredly, rubbing at his temple with his right hand. "Let me rest for a bit. I'll heal everyone tomorrow, I promise."

**We should not be idle. Idleness leads to sloth, and we do not-**

"Andraste's ass." Anders set his mug of tea down so hard a bit sloshed out onto the desk. "For once in your life, can you let me be for fifteen minutes so I can get some food in me? You know what food is, right? I need it so I can function and go about my day." Swearing softly under his breath he set about mopping up the spill with an old rag that had fallen on the floor. Justice rumbled again.

**You are distressed.**

"Of course I'm bloody distressed!" Anders snapped, throwing the rag down. "I wake up vomiting, with a splitting headache, and a Fade spirit demanding I use my magic when I can barely stand up! I swear, you're going to kill me one day, Justice. You're going to kill me and then you can finally go back to the Fade. Was that your plan all along?" The spike of guilt Anders felt from his spirit passenger quelled the man's anger, and he sighed heavily, running a hand across his face. "I'm sorry. That was unworthy. I'm tired, and I never get sick, and....just for today, let me rest. I'll refill the potions and poultices and tomorrow I'll get back to healing."

**As you say. Tomorrow, then.**

Anders breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he felt Justice retreat into the back of his mind, his shoulders sagging as the tension drained out of them. He reached for his tea and warmed it before taking another sip. The tang of elfroot was bitter on his tongue; grimacing slightly he downed the tea in three quick gulps, polished off one of the apples, and set to work cleaning the clinic.

He started by cleaning out the chamber pot, and when that was done, he filled a wash tub with water and soap and began scrubbing the pile of linens that had piled up. Normally the volunteers would help with the washing, but yesterday had been a busy day with a tunnel collapse and an outbreak of chokedamp keeping everyone on their feet. By the time all of the patients had been healed and mended, it was late in the night, and all Anders could think about was getting food in his belly and going to bed. Now he was paying for it.  
"These blood stains are never going to come out," Anders sighed, and made a mental note to turn the ruined sheets into rags later. One could never have enough rags in a clinic. When the salvageable linens were washed and hung up to dry, he started on refilling his potions and poultices. Water needed to be boiled, herbs needed to be ground up, glass bottles needed to be sterilized. It was a lengthy process, despite the fact that Anders was running low on supplies. When all was said and done, the mage frowned at his meager stores waiting on the shelves and made another mental note to accompany Hawke on his next trip to the Wounded Coast to restock.

He'd been so busy and so single-minded in his focus that Anders hasn't realized the sun was setting until golden sunlight spilled through the high windows of the clinic. He also realized that he hadn't eaten since breakfast, and his stomach, while thankfully not nauseous, was starting to cramp. Should he take a quick bath? It was Wicked Grace night, and if he dallied, he would be late....but he also smelled, of sweat and elfroot and astringent soap. Anders' nose crinkled in disgust as he sniffed the sleeves of his jacket before disrobing. He pondered the merits of washing his laundry and himself at the same time before he tossed the jacket into the dirty linen hamper. It was always one step forward and two steps back with the laundry, it seemed.

The wash tub Anders used to bathe in was barely big enough for his tall frame, but he made it work. He sank down into the hot water until it reached his chest, his legs rising out of the water like mountains, and nibbled on the remaining apple. Lavender-scented steam rose and curled above the water, and Anders relaxed, despite the cramped quarters. He so very rarely got time alone, to relax and take care of himself, that he'd almost forgotten how nice it was. Justice had been strangely quiet all day, ever since Anders had snapped at him. Normally the spirit would push back, would force the mage to keep going despite how exhuasted he was, but today he'd held back. Anders made a third mental note to ask his passenger about it later.

Anders washed himself and dressed for the evening, poured the cold bath water into the sewers, and took one last look around the clinic before he left, locking the door behind him. His staff was a comforting weight on his back as he navigated the maze of Darktown, which was quite literally living up to its name as the sun sank below the horizon. The undercity was always dangerous, but moreso at night. The lights and laughter of The Hanged Man would be a welcome reprieve from the gloom of the slums. 

He arrived second-to-last, a mug of spiced tea in his hands, and took a seat in Varric's room next to Isabela. Aveline hadn't arrived yet, busy as she was with her training to become the new Guard Captain. Merrill sat to the left of Isabela, her hands cupped around a glass of wine as she listened to Hawke and Varric discuss the Amell estate, which the Viscount had recently given back to Leandre. Fenris sat across from Anders and glowered at him; Anders responded with a rude gesture and turned his attention to Isabela.

"I thought I smelled lavender," she purred, her eyes crinkling at the edges in a smile. "Did you get cleaned up just for me?"

"As if I would clean up for anyone else," Anders teased back.

"He certainly doesn't do it for me," Fenris muttered into his wine. Anders ignored him.

"The gossip I hear around town is that he certainly does do it for you, sweet thing," Isabela replied, turning her gold eyes on the broody elf. Her mouth tugged into a knowing smirk. "How do you do it? Does he bend you over his desk? Pin you against the wall? Or maybe-"

"The only bending or pinning is done by me," Fenris interrupted, his smirk mirroring Isabela's as Anders' face bloomed red. Isabela hummed to herself and nodded, her gaze distant. Anders knew that look.

"Maker, please tell me you're not writing friend fiction of Fenris and I."

"We'll have the next chapter done by tomorrow, Blondie," Varric said with a hearty laugh, his conversation with Hawke having come to an end. "We're working on it together. This'll be the best one yet." Anders groaned and dropped his head into his hand. Merrill looked between dwarf and pirate, confusion knitting her brows together slightly.

"What is friend fiction?" she asked, and Isabela looped an arm around her shoulder. 

"Just something Varric and I are working on, kitten. I'll let you read it later if you'd like."

"Oh, I'd like that," the elf replied, smiling. Fenris scowled and downed his wine before reaching for the bottle.

"Can I read it after you're done?" Hawke asked, grinning. "I've been waiting for the next chapter for a while."

"You can't be serious," Anders muttered. "Can we please play the game so I can lose money I don't have and then go home?" 

"Alright, alright, no more teasing," Varric said. "Fenris is going to crush that bottle into sand if he squeezes it any harder." A deck of cards appeared in the dwarf's hands and he proceeded to shuffle the cards before doling out everyone's hand. Anders peeked at his cards and sighed. Another losing hand. The game progressed in the usual manner - everyone lost except Varric and Isabela; Fenris got steadily drunker on the wine. Aveline appeared after the first round ended and managed to do fairly well until the end, when Isabela trounced her with the Angel of Death card. Anders tossed his cards onto the table and stood.

"That's enough for me tonight. If I lose any more times I'm going to have to start working at the Rose to pay off my debt."

"You'd make a decent prostitute, mage," Fenris smirked. "You could put that mouth of yours to good use."

"You would know how good my mouth is, Fenris." Anders' smile was wicked as Isabela laughed. Fenris scowled at the mage over the lip of the wine bottle poised near his lips. "I'm off. Oh, Hawke. Are you going to the coast soon? I'm low on herbs."

"I was going to go in a few days. Aveline said there's rumor of raiders ambushing caravans. Once we know the details we'll head out." 

"Great. I'll see you then?" 

"I'll come get you when we're ready." Anders nodded and said his goodbyes. The game resumed as he left, the sounds of his friends mixing with that of the rest of the tavern as he headed for the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bear with me as I get used to writing these lovable misfits. I'm new to writing DA fic and I'm still finding my voice.


	3. Chapter 3

"Healer!" Anders was jolted from sleep by a shout and frantic pounding on the clinic door. "Healer, please help me! My girl-" Anders' stomach lurched as he rolled out of bed, all vestiges of sleep gone as he made his way through the darkened clinic, still dressed in his sleep shirt. Flinging the door open revealed a young elven mother clinging to a child, a girl no older than three years. She was deathly still in her arms save for the fluttering of her chest as she gasped out weak, ragged breaths. Her lips were blue against the waxy pallor of her skin. Anders' mouth tightened into a grim line.

"Bring her in and set her on a cot." The woman rushed in without a word as Anders closed the door behind her. He turned to see her gingerly laying the child down on the nearest cot, her hands shaking as she smoothed damp brown hair from her forehead. He stood next to her and his hands lit up with blue healing magic. "What happened to her? How long has she been ill?"

"She's had a rattling cough for a week, a fever....I was treating her myself, with herbs and elvhen remedies, but nothing worked. Then an hour ago she started choking, she couldn't breathe. Is she going to die?" She turned wide watery eyes to him, her lips trembling. Anders shook his head as he concentrated.

"I'll do everything I can to keep her alive." Left to his own thoughts, however, Anders wasn't so confident. She was seriously ill - pneumonia, his magic told him as his hands hovered over her chest. Fluid was building in her lungs and cutting off circulation; she was drowning from the inside out. In order to save her life the fluid had to be removed, and then the healing could begin. "Hold her down, please, in case she begins to move. This is delicate work." The woman nodded and gripped her daughter by the arms, looking worriedly between her and Anders.

The glow around Anders' hands intensified as he concentrated. She coughed as he pressed his hands to her chest. He could feel the fluid in her lungs, choking her breath and stealing her life away even as he fought to keep her alive. Sweat began to bead on Anders' forehead as he slowly moved his hands from her chest to her throat, the fluid moving with the motion; his patient began to choke, her small frame going rigid in her mother's arms as she struggled to breathe.

"You're killing her!" the woman shrieked. Anders shook his head and moved his hands over her mouth before pulling them away, a stream of fluid rising after them. With a flick of his wrist the liquid vanished, and the girl took a shuddering, gasping breath, a flush of pink tinting her pale cheeks. Her mother fell weeping against the cot, gently wrapping her arms around her child. "You saved her! Oh, Maker bless you!" Anders flashed a tired smile and resumed his work, coaxing healing energy into her tired body, repairing the damage to her lungs and throat.

"She'll need to stay here and rest for a few hours, but the worst is over. When you get home, limit her movement as best you can so she can get her strength back." The woman nodded and smiled, wiping tears from her face.

"I will. Oh, thank you Messere! I would've lost her if not for you. I'll repay you somehow, I swear it." Anders waved his hand dismissively and slumped down onto a nearby cot. Such a procedure was naturally going to drain a portion of his mana, but he was exhausted, his hands shaking as he ran them over his face. The nausea had returned, much to his dismay and empty stomach. His legs trembled as he stood.

"Will you be alright out here by yourself? I'm going to rest before I open the clinic." The woman looked up from her sleeping child and nodded. "Make yourself comfortable. There's a pitcher of water over there on the desk." The woman nodded and Anders disappeared back into his bedroom, falling onto his bed in a heap. He was asleep in seconds.

 

The nausea woke him abruptly after an hour, his stomach roiling angrily, and Anders had just enough time to roll over and empty the remnants of last night's tea and apple into the chamber pot. But even then it wasn't enough, and he retched until his throat burned and his eyes stung with tears. It passed as suddenly as it had come, and it left the mage gasping for air, his cheeks wet and stomach cramping painfully.

"What's wrong with me?" he choked. Justice hovered just under his consciousness, alarmed by the turbulent emotions flooding through his host. It unnerved the spirit when Anders was upset - even more so because his emotions affected him as well.

**I do not know. You would do well to find out.**

Anders lay back against the lumpy mattress and shook, his breath coming out in shuddering gasps. He never got sick. Whether it was luck or Justice's influence, he couldn't say. But throwing up twice in a day, with headaches and exhaustion, had him worrying. 

"Am I dying? I always thought I'd go out in a blaze of glory, not heaving my guts out in a sewer."

**You are not dying. I can tell that much.**

Justice wasn't capable of lying, so his words brought Anders a small measure of relief. He lay in the dim dawn light that spilled under the curtain partition and listened to Darktown waking up. There was no noise coming from the clinic; the woman and her daughter were most likely asleep. Anders' hands shook slightly as he lifted them and placed them on his torso. Healing magic lit the room with blue as he sought for what ailed him. He was silent for a moment as he worked, and then--

No. That couldn't be right. His forehead creased into a frown, and he pressed his hands against his abdomen. His eyes widened. There, a spark of life, unmistakable, growing steadily inside him. 

For the second time that morning, Anders felt his breath leave him in a rush.


	4. Chapter 4

Pregnant. The word buzzed around inside Anders' head like a hornet's nest, while the rest of him lay paralyzed in stunned disbelief. His hands were still pressed against his abdomen, and he let his magic flare to life again. It was still there, that little spark, glowing like a beacon against his magic. Anders let out a shaky breath.

"Did you know about this?" he asked quietly. Justice stirred in his mind, uncurling and stretching like a cat.

**I was aware.**

"Why didn't you say anything?"

**Would you have believed me? You assumed yourself unable to bear children. I thought so as well.**

"Did you have anything to do with this?"

**I cannot say.**

Thoughts, worries, fears all flitted through Anders' mind so fast he couldn't concentrate, but one thing stood out. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before he spoke.

"What do you think about this?" Justice was silent for a moment, pensive. 

**It is a distraction from our plans, but the child is an innocent. You have dreamed of this. I cannot deny you this happiness.**

Tears welled in Anders' eyes and spilled down his face. Great heaving sobs racked his slim frame and he covered his mouth with a hand to stifle the noise. He had wanted a good many things over the course of his life - love, freedom, the occasional feast, the chance to rain fireballs on every Templar in existence - with varying results. A child of his own had been a dream, something to think about when the night seemed endless and the walls a little too close. Now it was close to coming true, and all Anders could feel was grief.

He had dreamed of this with Karl. They had talked about it in passing, only as a joke, but Anders had held onto the idea, of a child with his hair and Karl's eyes. They would have taught the child how to master their magic, how to live free and proud in a world that despised them. It was all just a dream, of course. They never would have had the chance to raise the child together had it been born in Kinloch Hold, but the thought of it had helped keep Anders sane during his year in solitary. When he escaped again, he thought, he would find Karl in Kirkwall and make their dream a reality. They would be happy and free, together. And because Anders could never have anything he wanted, he was forced to kill his lover with his own hands.

Anders sniffled miserably and wiped his face on his sleeve, his sobs having calmed down to more manageable hiccups. Justice was a distant presence in his mind as he tried to give him some semblance of privacy, and for that Anders was eternally grateful. With a grunt of effort he sat up, his head throbbing and limbs heavy. Maker, he was ravenous. Didn't he have a few loose coppers around here somewhere? He would get something to eat from the market and spend the rest of the day thinking about this, his...pregnancy. It was still such a foreign concept to him that he barked out a laugh. Justice crept forward.

**Do not forget your promise.**

"Even if I did, you would be sure to remind me." Anders stood and stretched, and a cold chill raced down his spine as he reached for his pants.  
How was he going to tell Fenris?

 

All thoughts of Fenris fled his mind when Anders left his room and saw his young patient and her mother still in the clinic, the mother dozing in a chair by the cot her daughter slept on. The young woman had covered her daughter with a patchy woolen blanket. Anders approached them quietly.

"How is she?" he asked softly. The woman startled awake, her eyes wide in surprise as she swung her head up to look at him.

"Oh, healer." She returned her gaze to her sleeping child. Anders was pleased to see the color on her cheeks. "She's been sleeping ever since you helped her. I can't thank you enough." Anders' hands hovered over the girl as he let his magic wash over. Except for a slight rattle in her chest and the exhaustion, she was fine. He let his hands drop to his sides and smiled down at the woman.

"She'll make a full recovery, but if she takes ill again, bring her back. Pneumonia isn't something to take lightly." The woman nodded.

"I will, Messere. Thank you." 

"The markets should be just about ready to open. I'm going to get a bit of food and send you and your daughter home with some, if that's alright." The woman flushed pink right up to the tips of her ears.

"You've done so much for me already, Messere, I couldn't-"

"Your daughter will need food to help her recovery. It won't be much, but it will fill your bellies for today at least." Anders gazed imploringly at her while the woman fidgeted in her seat. After a beat she nodded.

"A-alright. Thank you, Messere." Anders strapped his staff to his back and headed for the door.

"I'll be back shortly. Lock the door after me, and don't open it for anyone." The woman nodded and did as instructed, but Anders still placed a protective ward on the door anyway, just in case.

 

The days passed in a blur and before Anders knew it he was trekking along the Wounded Coast with Hawke, Aveline and Varric, his pack filled with all the elfroot and embrium he could fit in it. His stomach had been queasy all day, and the strain of walking, fighting, and struggling to keep his condition a secret was starting to wear him down. All he needed was a moment alone to empty his stomach and he'd feel a little better.

His moment arrived when Hawke found a cave and ducked inside to investigate. The others followed, but Anders held back, retracing his steps to a boulder off the beaten path. He had been trying to eat more, but even so, what came out of him wasn't much. The roaring in his ears as he bent over, braced with one hand on the boulder, distracted him from the heavy footsteps coming up behind him.

"What's the matter, Blondie? Morning sickness?" Varric laughed, and Anders froze. He was a terrible liar; Varric knew all of his tells, which was one of the reasons he always lost so badly at Wicked Grace. Anders gave a mental shrug. Varric would've found out sooner or later, and he'd rather it be sooner, to get it out of the way. He nodded.

"Yes." Varric's smile fell into a confused frown as he looked at the mage in front of him, trembling and spitting up acid.

"Shit. You're serious, aren't you?" Anders nodded again and wiped his face with his sleeve. 

"It's Broody's, isn't it?" Varric asked quietly, and Anders finally turned to face the dwarf, his eyes somber. The look on the human's face told Varric everything he needed to know. "Well, shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I really tried to fit in a conversation where Anders learns the woman's name, but everything I tried felt really awkward and cumbersome so I left it out. :| Also, I'm going to Fanime in San Jose on Friday, and I'll be gone until late Monday. If I don't update before Friday, I apologize! Also if any of you are going, look for me in a purple Sailor Saturn shirt on Friday. >u>


	5. Chapter 5

"Don't tell him, Varric. Please. Don't tell anyone." Anders' gaze was pleading as he wrung his hands anxiously. Varric's eyebrows arched up toward his hairline. 

"You haven't told him yet?" Anders shook his head.

"I only just found out a few days ago. You think Fenris would keep quiet about this if he knew? Once he knows, everyone will."

"He's not going to be happy. I don't envy the position you're in, Blondie. You are going to tell him, though, aren't you?" Anders sighed heavily.

"Of course. I won't be able to hide this forever." Varric's gaze shifted to Anders' waist, the round buckles of his threadbare coat sitting flat against his abdomen. Early days, yet. "Do you think I could get Merrill to run the clinic if Fenris kills me?" Varric chuckled humorlessly.

"Maybe he'd be generous and only maim you." Ander's smile was brittle.

"I can still heal people with one arm, assuming he'll only rip one off and not both."

"Are you sure about this, Blondie?" Varric's stare was firm, concerned. "You're a healer, you could make this.....go away, and it'd be like it never happened." Anders blinked in surprise at his dwarven friend.

"Why would I do that?"

"Oh, I don't know, it's just that being a runaway apostate with no money who lives in a sewer probably isn't the best way to raise a child," Varric shrugged. "Especially when the father is a mage-hating broody death elf." Anders dropped his gaze to his boots with a quiet sigh.

"I know. It's not the best idea I've ever had, but I'm keeping it. Justice wouldn't let me get rid of it even I wanted to. Being a single parent can't be that hard, right?" Varric opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by footsteps behind him.

"There you are!" Hawke came into view, his staff crackling with magic, Aveline following behind him. "I thought you'd gone on ahead of us. What are you doing out here?" Anders began to speak, but Varric cut him off.

"Anders thought he felt darkspawn, so we came to check it out." Aveline and Hawke immediately tensed, their hands reaching for their weapons. Anders stepped forward, his palms out in a placating gesture.

"I thought I felt something, but it was nothing. If it were darkspawn, they'd already be on top of us."

"Then what was it?" Aveline asked, her expression stony as she let her hand drop to her side. Anders rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

"I haven't been sleeping well lately."

"You never sleep anyway," Varric quipped, giving the mage's arm a friendly pat. "Come on. Those raiders aren't going to kill themselves."  
They fell in behind Aveline as they resumed their mission. Hawke slowed his steps until he was keeping pace with Anders, who was trying not to fidget under the weight of the other's gaze.  
"Are you alright? You look even more pale than usual."

"I'm fine. Just tired." Hawke's mouth pursed together as Anders refused to meet his eyes. 

"If something is bothering you, you can tell me. I'm good at keeping secrets." Anders shook his head.

"I said I'm fine, Hawke. I just haven't been sleeping well lately, that's all." The way Hawke stared at him made Anders feel like an insect pinned to a board for observation. He squirmed, made brief eye contact with his friend, and then looked away. "Really, I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me." 

"You know me, I always do the opposite of what I'm told," Hawke grinned, and Anders huffed out a laugh. "I won'r press the issue, but if you need me for anything, just ask. I mean it." Anders finally looked over at him and offered a wan smile in return. 

"Thank you, Hawke."

He returned to his clinic late in the afternoon, pockets full of coin from dead raiders, to find Merrill in front of the locked door. She waved at him as he approached.

"Merrill. What are you doing here by yourself?" he asked as he set his pack down. His shoulders ached and he sent a pulse of magic into them to relieve it.

"Oh! I asked Isabela when you'd be back, and she said she didn't know, and then she offered to pick the lock to let me in and I told her no, Anders doesn't like it when his clinic is broken into and--" Anders shot her an impatient glance as he unlocked the door and let himself in. Merrill's face pinked in embarrassment. "I'm rambling, sorry. My neighbor Maris, with the little girl Teryn who you healed the other day, wanted me to tell you that she's doing much better now, and also if you had a few spare potions that she could have, in case of emergency." Anders shut the door behind his guest as she followed him into the empty clinic.

"Maris, is it? I never did manage to get her or her daughter's name when they came in. I'm glad they're doing well." He puttered around his clinic, gathering a few bottles of potions and poultices into a burlap sack. A wedge of cheese and half a loaf of bread followed, as well as a few coins from his pockets. He handed the sack to Merrill, who cradled it gently against her chest. "Try to get the bottles back if you can, and give her my regards." Merrill nodded with a smile.

"I will. Thank you, lethallin." She turned to leave, and then stopped. "You look different somehow." Anders stiffened in alarm.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I didn't mean anything by it! You just seem....happier. It's a nice change to how glum you usually are." With that she turned on her heel and left the clinic. The door closed behind her, and Anders' hand settled on his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but it was all I could manage while I was at the con.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wee bit nsfw, but nothing too bad.

A new week quickly rolled around, and Anders was tidying up the clinic before Wicked Grace at The Hanged Man when Fenris stalked through the open door. He became aware of the elf's presence when Justice perked up at the tug of lyrium, and before Anders could react, Fenris had grabbed him, spun him around, and pressed their mouths together into a bruising kiss. There was nothing gentle about it - Fenris kissed like he fought, hard and rough, and Anders found himself momentarily blindsided by the intensity of it, his hands clutching at the elf's shoulders, bunching the fabric of Fenris' tunic under his fingers.

Anders broke the kiss with a gasp and tilted his head back as Fenris descended on him, nipping and licking the column of the mage's freckled neck, uncaring that they were next to the open door and anyone walking past could see them. He stumbled back until he connected with the wall, and he bit back a groan as Fenris sucked a red mark onto the side of his neck. Anders' legs parted on instinct, and Fenris stepped in between them, their hips flush. 

Justice was lulled into a state of quiescence, but even so, Anders could still make out the distant rumblings of his spirit passenger.

**Tell him. He needs to know.**

Dread settled like a lead weight in Anders' stomach. He was under no illusions about this - there would be no happy words, no running off into the sunset in familial bliss. Fenris would be angry, possibly even violent, when he found out. The thought of running, of fleeing Kirkwall and never looking back, skittered through Anders' brain as Fenris mouthed at his neck, lyrium-lined fingers fumbling with the buckles on the mage's coat.

**We are not running. The mages here need us.**

"Fenris," Anders breathed, his voice hitching as the elf palmed him through his thin trousers. He pushed at Fenris' shoulders in an attempt to get the other man to look at him. Fenris grunted and ignored him, rucking the mage's tunic up and running the tips of his gauntleted fingers over pale freckled skin. Anders' stomach jumped at the sensation and he snapped his hips forward, rutting against Fenris' hand. "Fenris, I have to tell you something."

"What is it?" Fenris' face was still pressed to Anders' neck as his hands worked, squeezing the mage's hardening erection in time with the thrusts against his hand. This wasn't going how Anders wanted it to. He groaned and knocked his head back against the wall in frustration.

"Look at me. This is important." Fenris finally lifted his head and fixed green eyes on Anders, his lips well-kissed and tugging up into a disdainful smirk.

"Don't tell me you're developing feelings for me, mage," he scoffed.

"I'm pregnant." Time slowed to a crawl as Fenris stared at him. Anders offered him a tepid smile. "Surprise."

"You're lying," Fenris said slowly. His stare was suspicious as he searched Anders' face for any signs of trickery. "You said you were sterile."

"I thought I was, too. But I swear on Andraste's pyre that I'm telling the truth, Fenris. Justice was aware of it before I was, and he's incapable of lying." Fenris jerked his hands away from Anders as if he'd been burned, his face contorting into a rictus of anger.

"You lied to me!" Anders held his hands up, his expression pleading.

"Fenris, I swear--"

"I should've known this would happen. Mages!" Fenris hissed. "Deceitful, lying, manipulative....I can never be free of them!" He began to pace back and forth, like a caged animal. The pleading look slid from Anders' face, replaced by a deepening frown.

"No one forced you to sleep with me, Fenris," he shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. Fenris stopped his pacing to level a murderous glare at the mage.  
"You did this on purpose," he spat, venom dripping from every word,"to tie me down, to shackle me to another mage! I won't stand for it! I won't have a....a filthy mage child born of an abomination!"  
"If you didn't want a filthy mage child then you shouldn't have been fucking me!" Anders yelled, blue fissuring across his skin. Fenris surged forward and grabbed Anders by his feathery pauldrons, his brands activating in a brilliant glow. 

"I should rip the creature out of you and leave you to die, abomination," the elf hissed, and Anders' eyes widened in shock before Justice surged forward in an eruption of blue Fade light, the air around them crackling with magic and the smell of ozone. 

**You will not harm Anders or the child!**

Before Fenris could react Justice had him by the throat, squeezing hard as he lifted the elf off the floor. Fenris' eyes were wide in panic as he tried to pry Justice's fingers loose, but the spirit was too strong, too angry. The thought that he was going to die, his windpipe crushed by a Fade spirit, filtered dimly through Fenris' mind as spots appeared on the edge of his vision. A brief look of uncertainty flickered across Justice's face before he turned and threw the elf bodily out of the clinic. Fenris landed hard on his back with a gasp as air flooded into his lungs. Coughing, he scrambled to his feet to see Justice looming in the clinic doorway, his face stormy with anger.

**Do not show your face here again, elf!**

Fenris fled without a backward glance.

 

The door to The Hanged Man slammed open, and Varric tilted his head to the side as angry footsteps pounded up the stairs. 

"Broody's here," he commented as he shuffled the cards.

"Sounds like he's in a mood, too, if those footsteps are anything to go by," Aveline remarked. All eyes turned to the doorway as Fenris blew into the room like a thundercloud, tense with anger. He sat heavily in an empty chair next to Isabela and dropped his head into his hand. Everyone exchanged glances. It had been a while since anyone had seen the elf this angry. 

"Lover's spat?" Isabela quipped, leaning forward to try to peek at Fenris' face. "Oh, I would have loved to have seen that." Fenris pulled at his hair for a moment before slamming his hand onto the table, his gauntlet creaking.

"No, it wasn't a lover's spat! The mage is pregnant!" Varric rubbed his forehead with a quiet sigh.

"Ancestors. This is going to be bad," he muttered to himself as the table exploded around him. 

"Are you sure?"

"How far along is he?"

"Isn't that dangerous? An apostate living in Darktown...what is he thinking?" 

"What are you going to do, Fenris?"

"Nothing!" Fenris snapped in response to Hawke's question. "The abomination wants the child so badly, he can keep it, I don't care what happens."

"You would really abandon them both, Fenris?" Merrill asked, turning her wide-eyed gaze onto the other elf. Fenris snarled in response.

"What the mage does with his body is none of my concern. I want nothing to do with him or whatever monstrosity he births."

"Fenris-"

"I've had enough! Coming here was a waste of time." He stood and stormed out of Varric's suite and toward the stairs.

"Fenris, wait!" Hawke called after him, but he was already gone, the door to the tavern slamming shut behind him. Hawke stood and made to follow after him, but Varric put a hand on his arm.

"Leave him be, Hawke. You know he's in no mood to be sociable right now; going after him might lead to you losing an arm, or worse."

"But-" 

"If you really need to go talk to someone, talk to Anders. He could probably use the company." Hawke looked down at Varric questioningly.

"Did you know about this already?" Varric nodded somberly.

"Last week on the Coast." Hawke nodded in understanding.

"I'm going to go talk to him. I owe you a game, Varric." The dwarf patted Hawke's arm before releasing it.

"I'll hold you to it." And then Hawke was gone as well, leaving Varric, Isabela, Aveline and Merrill sitting awkwardly at the table.

"Well. That was an interesting start to the evening," Aveline deadpanned, and took a drink of her ale. Merrill sighed happily.

"I think it's terribly exciting. A baby! Anders must be so happy."

"But I thought he couldn't have children," Isabela said, looking over at Varric. "He seemed pretty sure that the taint in his blood would prevent anything from happening." Varric shrugged.

"That's what I thought, too."

"When you said "last week on the coast"," Aveline said, "was that when Hawke and I found you two outside the cave?"

"Yeah. I found Blondie puking his guts out. It was pretty disturbing. He made me swear not to tell anyone." Isabela laughed in disbelief. 

"I can't believe it. The formerly-sterile warden knocked up by the mage-hating elf. Who would've thought?"

"This isn't going to go well for either of them," Aveline remarked. 

"It might just be the thing to help them get over their differences," Merrill said, still the happiest one in the room.

"I'm glad someone's optimistic about this," Varric sighed as he dealt the cards. "They're going to need all the optimism they can get to survive this."


	7. Chapter 7

Hawke stood outside the darkened clinic with his ear pressed to the door, listening for any sound of activity inside. It was as silent as a tomb, and Hawke had been standing there for several minutes. He couldn't think of anywhere Anders might've gone to - obviously not the Rose, certainly not the Hanged Man. The Chantry was out. That either left the tunnels of the mage underground, and Hawke sincerely hoped that wasn't the case, or the clinic. He'd start with the clinic first. Raising his head, he knocked on the door once, twice, three times.

"Anders?" he called out quietly into the gloom of Darktown. "Are you in there?" Silence. Hawke pressed his ear to the door again. "Anders, if you're in there, can I come in? I want to make sure you're alright." More silence. Hawke was just about to turn away when he heard the shuffling of feet on the other side of the door. The lock slid back, the door creaked open, and there stood Anders, eyes puffy and red from crying, his cheeks splotchy with color and streaked with tears.

"Hawke," he choked out, and then he surged forward into his friend's willing embrace, clutching desperately at Hawke's broad shoulders. Strong arms curled tight around Anders' slim frame as the blonde mage began to weep, hot tears soaking into the fabric of Hawke's collar. Tears were still a difficult thing for Hawke to deal with; too many times growing up he had heard his mother crying, and the feeling of impotence, of not knowing how to help her, had angered him. Now as an adult, he'd found that the best response to someone's tears was usually the simplest - a good long hug and a few kind words, and Anders was long overdue for both. Hawke held his friend close, rubbing his back and whispering gentle words into his ear, until Anders pulled away, scrubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. Hawke gave an encouraging smile.

"Feel better?"

"No," Anders replied, his voice thick with emotion. He hadn't cried like that since Karl...his voice hitched in his throat and his gaze fell to the floor, away from Hawke's concerned gaze. 

"How can I help you, Anders?" Hawke asked, giving the other mage's feathered shoulders a firm squeeze. Anders shook his head.

"I'll be fine, Hawke. You don't have to worry about me. I've lived through worse things on my own before, remember?"

"But you shouldn't have to. You have friends who care about you, Anders, you and the--the child." Hawke's eyes slid down to take in Anders' skinny frame. Anders exhaled heavily and finally looked up at his friend.

"I don't know what to do, Hawke. Fenris, he....what happened tonight, I don't know if I can--"

"Don't worry about Fenris. Not right now, anyway. We'll tackle that problem tomorrow. As for what you should do, I think you should stay the night in my estate. When was the last time you ate?"

"Ah...." Anders' face settled into a mask of thoughtfulness. "This morning. I had bread." Hawke sighed in exasperation.

"Anders, you need to start taking care of yourself. Bread as a meal isn't going to cut it now that you're pregnant."

"You think I don't know that?" Anders snapped, and then groaned softly, rubbing at his forehead. "I'm sorry. You're right. It's just hard to find food that sounds appealing, and half the time I just vomit it back up, anyway." Hawke grimaced.

"Is it really that bad?" Anders shrugged.

"Not as bad as when Nathaniel Howe and I tried to drink the cellar at Vigil's Keep." Hawke laughed and clapped Anders on the back. 

"Then this should be easy! Come on. You can have a hot bath, sleep in a real bed. What do you say?"

"I...." Anders paused. A hot bath in a real tub did sound nice, and he didn't want to be alone.... "Alright. I won't be imposing, will I?"

"Not at all. The estate has so many bedroom, you could've fit all of Lothering in there with room to spare." It only took Anders a brief moment to lock up the clinic, and then he and Hawke headed for the Amell basement stairs, thankfully right next to the clinic itself. "I'll have Bodahn prepare a room for you. Do you want a sandwich while you wait?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and his sandwiches.


	8. Chapter 8

Anders sat at the kitchen table, a plate of ham and cheese sandwiches and a glass of water in front of him, eating in silence. He had already demolished four of the sandwiches and was just starting on his fifth when Hawke walked in, leaning against the doorway with an impressed whistle. 

"You were hungry. Feel better?" Anders glanced at the door with a smile. 

"In my defense, the sandwiches were pretty good." Hawke laughed and pushed away from the door frame to take a seat next to his friend.

"You're kind to say so, even if I don't believe you. Sandwiches are the only thing I can make without setting anything on fire. You're eating the end result of twenty-five years worth of culinary failure." Anders took a bite of his sandwich and choked on a laugh.

"You're still doing better than most of my patients in the clinic. Have you ever thought about putting your skills to use for Kirkwall?"

"The Champion of Sandwiches, Kirkwall's lesser-known honorable title." Anders laughed along with Hawke, the absurdity of it bringing tears to his eyes. Hawke gave his friend's back a warm, stinging slap. 

"The room is ready whenever you're done, Anders. There's also a bath if you want it, I put out fresh soap and a towel. You can wear one of my night shirts." Warmth spread across Anders' face and he ducked his head, unable to meet Hawke's gaze.

"Thank you. I--you don't have to look after me like this, Hawke. But I appreciate it. Justice does too." Hawke's smile was fond as he squeezed Anders' shoulder.

"I have to keep my favorite spirit and spirit healer happy." He stood with a yawn. "Help yourself to the larder if you want anything. I'm going to bed. Will you be alright by yourself?" Anders nodded. "Alright. Goodnight, Anders."

"Goodnight, Hawke." Anders watched him leave, the sandwich in his hand forgotten. Justice stirred.

**He is a good man.**

"Yes. He is."

**He would be a better father to your child than the elf.**

"Well, there's not much I can do about that, is there?" Anders shot back, dropping his half-eaten sandwich onto the plate. Justice rumbled but said nothing. Anders sighed heavily and got to his feet. "I'm going to take that bath, and then try to get some sleep. Maker knows I need it after today." 

Leaving the food on the table he moved silently through the estate to the bathing room, where a large tub sat waiting for him, filled with warm water. A cake of lemon-scented soap sat on a fluffy white towel on a nearby stool. One of Hawke's night shirts hung on a hook by the door. A tired but happy smile bloomed on Anders' face as he began to shrug out of his clothes. Decent food, a warm bath and a bed to sleep in - easy enough for most people to take for granted, but for Anders they were rare luxuries.

Leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor, Anders bent over the tub and stuck his hands into the water until steam billowed up to the ceiling. Satisfied, he clambered into the tub, sinking down into the hot water until it covered his chest. The water was just this side of uncomfortably hot, but he ignored it, his eyes sliding shut with a quiet sigh. His hands slid down and pressed lightly against his abdomen. The little spark was still there, a little brighter now in its seventh week. Idly Anders wondered to himself how he hadn't noticed earlier. Too tired, too distracted, too stressed to put the pieces together, he supposed. Now that he thought about it, being pregnant was probably the reason he was so tired, distracted and stressed. Add Fenris to the mix and--no. He wasn't going to think of the elf tonight. Scowling, the mage slipped beneath the surface of the water with a splash.

 

The bottle hit the wall with an echoing crash, glass spraying out onto the floor in a burst of light as the fire reflected off the shards. Red spilled down the wall in a rush, blending in with the previous stains as Fenris sank heavily into his favorite chair by the fire. Normally getting drunk on Danarius' wine and destroying the bottle, and sometimes a few pieces of furniture, was a source of amusement for the elf. Tonight, however, it brought no such enjoyment. Anders' words were still ringing in the warrior's mind, the fearful, hopeful look on the mage's face burned into his memory. Fenris' mouth twisted into a sneer. Anders was carrying his child and there was nothing he could do about it.

Bringing a new bottle to his lips, Fenris yanked the cork out with his teeth, spat it into the fire, and took a long pull. He was using the cheap wine tonight, the kind he used when he needed to get drunk and forget, and right now he wanted nothing more than to erase Anders from his memory completely. There was no way he could be a father - or a good one, anyway. Fenris had no memories of his father, let alone his childhood. He was a living weapon, created for fighting and death; how could he possibly care for a child? He could barely take care of himself. The mansion was falling to pieces around him, alongside the corpses that refused to rot. There were mushrooms growing out of the carpet and the room he slept in had a hole in the ceiling. Not a fit place to raise a child in. He took another pull from the bottle and let his head fall back against the pillowy head rest.

It was a mistake to have started sleeping with Anders, if it could be called that. Fenris would usually corner the mage in his clinic for a quick, rough fuck and then leave; he never invited him to his mansion, and Anders never asked to be invited. Anders had assured him that he was sterile, he'd never be able to bear children, "let me tell you about how often I slept with Nathaniel Howe and nothing happened" - Fenris always tuned out the sound of Anders' voice when he started to ramble about his Warden days, focusing instead on relieving the mage of his clothes. It had been a mistake, Fenris had known that, and yet he'd still kept coming back for more, and now Anders was pregnant, and Fenris was stuck, bound once again to another mage. He could never be free of them.

A log shifted in the fireplace, sending up a burst of hot sparks. Weariness descended on Fenris like a wet blanket as he stared into the flames, the bottle slipping from his fingers as he slowly faded into unconsciousness. Passed out in front of the dying fire, he dreamed of a child with blonde hair and green eyes, smiling and giggling as they tugged on his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just would. not. come out. I struggled with this for days. @_@


	9. Chapter 9

"What happened last night?"

Anders looked up from his breakfast, his hand halfway to his mouth with a fork full of eggs. Hawke sat next to him at the table, a cup of steaming hot coffee in his hands. He had a look on his face that the other mage was all too familiar with, a look that said he was going to get to the bottom of whatever had captured his interest. Nothing anyone said could deter Hawke when he was on the hunt for information. Anders lowered his fork to his plate.

"What do you mean?" That didn't mean he couldn't try to stall for time. Hawke sipped at his coffee and eyed Anders over the rim of his mug. Anders sighed and dropped his eyes to the table, laden with breakfast foods. 

"Fenris came to the clinic yesterday, while I was cleaning up. He....well. I'll spare you the details of what he did when he first came in. But I told him that I was pregnant and obviously he didn't take it well. He thought I was lying. He--" Anders began to fidget, nervous hands plucking at his sleeves, his collar, finally settling on the cloth napkin, twisting and folding it as his anxiety overtook him. Hawke set his coffee down and covered Anders' hands with one of his own. That calmed the blonde somewhat, and his eyes swung up from the table to Hawke's face. Concern was evident in the other man's expression, but Hawke kept silent, not wanting to push Anders into talking when he wasn't ready. Anders swallowed around the lump in his throat, his chest tight enough to choke the breath out of him. "He said that I lied to him, that I was trying to shackle him to another mage. Then he said that he wasn't going to have a "filthy mage child", right before he threatened to rip the child out of me and leave me to die." Hawke's eyes widened in alarm and his hand tightened against Anders'. 

"He said that?" Anders nodded and let out a shaky breath, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

"He called it a creature. I've never seen him so vicious before. I mean, I know he hates mages but I didn't think he'd be so..." Anders let his words trail off with a shrug. Nothing more needed to be said; Fenris' views on mages were well-known.

"Are you alright? What did you say to him?" Hawke asked, scooting closer to his friend. Anders' responding smile was sad.

"I'm fine. I didn't get the chance to say anything to him, because Justice came out and almost killed him. Lifted Fenris right off his feet and nearly choked him to death." Hawke's mouth hung open like a door off its hinges, and for a few long moments he was truly speechless, the first time Anders had ever seen the other mage at a loss for words.  
"That's....wow. I didn't know Justice could do that. Or that he even would."

"He normally only appears when I'm angry and lose control," Anders explained quietly. "But if he feels that I'm being threatened or in danger, then he'll take over." His thoughts strayed to the Wardens, Templar blood on his hands and a spirit's fire in his veins. Hawke sat back in his chair and ran a hand over his face. Anders twisted the napkin in his hands and dropped his gaze back to the table.

"So Fenris knows, and he's not happy about it. He also threatened to kill you, and this time he sounds like he's serious. I guess that means I can't have both of you with me when I run errands anymore." Anders huffed an unamused laugh.

"I guess not. If you need healing after your errands, you know where to find me." He dropped the wrinkled napkin onto the table and stood. "Thank you for breakfast, Hawke. And....everything else. It's nice to know I have someone on my side during all this." Hawke stood as well, matching Anders' tepid smile with his standard confident grin.

"You know you can always count on me, Anders. Maker knows that if Varric or I didn't force you to eat, you'd shrivel up and blow away in a small breeze. Speaking of which, I'm going to send you down to the clinic with the breakfast leftovers. Try not to give everything away? You need more than one meal in your belly nowadays." It was pointless to argue with Hawke when he was in mother hen mod, so Anders simply nodded as Bodahn packed the food away. Together Hawke and Anders descended the cellar stairs down into Darktown, where they parted ways at the clinic, and once Hawke made sure Anders was safely tucked inside, he made the trip back up the stairs to the estate. From there, it was just a short walk across the Chantry courtyard, up the stairs, and a left turn to a certain derelict mansion.

 

The sound of loud pounding from downstairs woke Fenris with a gasp. Jolting upright in his chair, eyes wild and heart hammering heavily in his chest, the elf fumbled for his sword that he'd left on the floor. Fear iced his veins as he lurched to his feet, cursing himself for drinking so much the night before as his vision swam. If it was slavers at the door he might be able to take a few of them--

"Fenris!" Hawke's voice at the door made him pause for a moment, the fear draining out of him in a rush. Shouldering his sword Fenris padded down the stairs and over to the door; opening it revealed a very stern Garrett Hawke on the other side. Fenris blinked owlishly up at him as the bright mid-morning sun beat down into his face.

"Hawke. What, er...what brings you here?"

"You know why I'm here. Anders." It all came crashing back: Anders spilling his guts, Fenris threatening to do the same, Justice almost choking the life out of him. Fenris' lip curled up into a sneer.

"Is the mage too cowardly to face me himself? Is that why you're here and he's hiding in his clinic?"

"I am here because I have a friend who needs help," Hawke shot back, his face set in an angry scowl. "A friend who told me that his lover threatened to disembowel him and leave him and innocent child to die."

"Any child born of an abomination is not innocent," Fenris snarled, his hands clenching and unclenching as his anger grew.

"So, what? You need to kill it to make sure?"

"If it prevents one more mage from being born, why not?" Anger flashed in Hawke's eyes and he took a step forward into Fenris' personal space; Fenris took a step back into the main hall, fighting the urge to reach for his weapon. He had seen Hawke's anger in action but had never been on the receiving end of it before. Hawke slammed the door behind him, rattling the windows in their frames.

"Anders is a good man. A good mage. And he doesn't deserve any of the vitriol you've been throwing at him for the past year!" Hawke spoke heatedly, his voice rising in volume.

"He's an abomination, Hawke! He wants to free the same people who enslaved and abused me!" Fenris yelled back, his ears red and quivering with barely-contained rage.

"Anders didn't abuse you! None of the mages in southern Thedas did! The blame lies with Tevinter, and no one else."

"Do not speak to me of Tevinter as if you know what it is like there," Fenris growled. "I was there! I lived it! I saw the lengths that mages will go to in order to gain power and wealth, and Anders is no different!"

"Fenris, Anders lives in a sewer!" Hawke exclaimed, throwing his arms out wide in exasperation. "He heals people for free, and any coin he gets goes right back into the clinic. I know for a fact that he goes without food in order to feed those who would otherwise starve. If Anders wanted power and wealth, don't you think he would've done something to get it by now?" Fenris scoffed in derision and began to pace the floor, averting his eyes from Hawke's penetrating gaze.

"He lied to me, Hawke. He said he was sterile and he tricked me into getting him pregnant so he-"

"Yes, I could tell that Anders was just dying to have a child with someone who thinks all mages should be imprisoned," Hawke said with a roll of his eyes. Fenris leveled a glare at the other man and opened his mouth to speak, but Hawke held up a hand to silence him. "I know you don't believe him, but I believe that Anders was telling the truth about his fertility. I can't understand what being a Warden is like, but after hearing Anders talk about it in the Deep Roads, I have to believe him when he says he thought he was sterile. And if you had any doubts about it, you either shouldn't have been screwing him, or you should have been more careful." Fenris snarled in response and turned away, crossing his arms over his chest. Hawke sighed and approached him, standing behind the elf's right shoulder, but stopped short of touching him.

"Fenris. I didn't come here to yell at you. I came because Anders is as frightened by this turn of events as you are. I know you hate him, I can't change how you feel about him, but this child is going to be born. Whether you're in its life is up to you." Fenris stood in the foyer of the decrepit mansion he called home, his shoulders hunched, feeling jittery and raw in the absence of his anger that had left him as quickly as it had been arrived. He was no stranger to fear, being an ex-slave on the run from a powerful mage; he could deal with that fear. But the terror he felt at the thought of being a father, being responsible for someone else, was a new beast, something the elf wasn't sure he could face. One look at his living space and drinking habits was enough to show that he wasn't good at taking care of himself. Hawke was quiet behind him. Fenris scuffed his foot against a broken tile and gathered his thoughts.

"When I was a slave," he started out, slowly, "I never had dealings with children. I was Danarius' bodyguard, a glorified pet. I don't know how to be a father, Hawke. I don't know how to be gentle or kind to anyone, let alone a child."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Hawke said with a shrug. "I thought it was awfully kind of you to not stick your hand in my chest when you found out I was a mage." Fenris huffed out a quiet laugh and unfolded his arms, finally turning to face his companion. Hawke's face was concerned, but a smile brightened his features when Fenris' eyes met his.

"I hope you can forgive me for lecturing you first thing in the.....afternoon, now, I suppose it is. But I hope you'll think on what I've said, Fenris. No one is going to force you to like Anders or be part of the child's life." Fenris' nose crinkled in distaste, like he'd eaten something sour.

"Good. I will think on your words, Hawke, but I cannot promise to change overnight." Hawke grinned and shook his head.

"I wouldn't want you to. Now, what do you say we go get you some food? I'm just going to assume that you hit the bottle hard last night." Fenris coughed and shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot.

"You know me so well, Hawke."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God. Just. Dialogue is still so not my strong suit. Another chapter that I'm unhappy with (but that's probably because I've been thinking about it and writing/rewriting it so much that I'm tired of it lol). I swear I'll get better at writing dialogue someday. *stares off into the distance*


	10. Chapter 10

The clinic was nearly empty when Merrill arrived in the late afternoon, a small covered basket in one hand. Anders knelt on the floor in front of an elderly man seated on a cot, blue healing magic enveloping ancient knees as the mage healed whatever was ailing his patient. The man noticed her first, pointing to her with a smile.

"Looks like you have a guest." Merrill returned the smile with a wave as Anders turned, a look of mild surprise on his face.

"Hello," Merrill chirped. "Don't mind me, I'm just here to talk to Anders for a bit." Anders nodded and turned back to his patient, finishing his work with a pat to the other man's knee. 

"It's healed now, but it will still be sore for a few days. Try to elevate it when you can, and if the inflammation comes back, come and see me. Will you be alright going home by yourself?" The man nodded and stood, clapping Anders on the shoulder with a wide smile.

"I'm more than alright now, thanks to you. Maker's blessings to you, healer." Anders stood and watched the man leave the clinic before turning his attention to Merrill.

"I'm surprised to see you here by yourself, Merrill. What are you doing here?"

"Oh!" Merrill's gaze shifted to Anders from where it had been wandering around the clinic. "Well, I thought I would come and see if you were alright, make sure that Fenris hadn't torn you to pieces, he was in a mood last night, he didn't even stay to play cards. Are you alright?" she asked, her green eyes wide and concerned. Anders nodded and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm fine. As fine as I could be, I suppose, given the circumstances."

"I'm glad Fenris didn't hurt you," Merrill replied with a smile. "I'm so excited for the baby, I'll bet it'll be tall, like you. You must be so nervous, but I know you'll do well, Anders. Oh, I also brought food." She held the basket up for the other mage's inspection. Anders blinked in surprise and took the basket, pulling back the covering to reveal a small assortment of food in individual containers. He glanced at Merrill questioningly. 

"You brought me lunch?" Merrill bobbed her head eagerly.

"You need to eat if you're going to have a healthy baby, and I know you don't eat as often as you should. It'll keep if you don't get to it right away, or if you get sick. The cabbage salad is fresh, though. I would eat that first." Anders pried the lid off of one of the containers; the smell of vegetable stew wafted out, bringing a smile to his face. He put the lid back on and set the basket down. Merrill's smile was warm as Anders faced her again. He looked abashed, fidgeting with the cuffs on his sleeves. In the year that he had known her, Anders had belittled Merrill for her naivete, her blood magic, her dealings with the demon. He had given her no reason to like him, and yet here she was, bringing him food. Guilt spiked through him, making Justice stir in his mind.

"I--thank you, Merrill. I can't repay you right now but maybe later I could-" Merrill shook her head and patted Anders' nervous hands.

"If you want to repay me, you could trade the food for some herbs and poultices? A few of my neighbors are under the weather, nothing serious, just not bad enough to come see you." Anders nodded enthusiastically. 

"Yes, of course. You can reuse the basket." Merrill removed the food from the basket as Anders took various bottles and packages from the shelves. Soon the basket was full, and Merrill stood in the doorway with it, hands clasped tight around the handle. 

"Ma serannas, lethallin. My neighbors will greatly appreciate this," she said, shifting the basket in her hands.

"Do you need help getting home with that?" Anders asked with a frown. He didn't doubt Merrill's strength in battle, but she was skinnier than Fenris, with none of his muscle strength. She shook her head with a smile.

"No, I'll be fine, I wouldn't want to take you away from your clinic. Thank you again, Anders. Come and see me sometime? I can make you some tea if you'd like." Warmth spread throughout Anders' body, manifesting in a smile that made his eyes crinkle up.

"I would like that very much, Merrill. Thank you." Merrill beamed up at him and turned to leave, waving goodbye a she descended the stairs. Justice curled to the front of Anders' mind as he watched her leave.

 **She is a strange blood mage,** Justice said thoughtfully. **I do not agree with what she does, but she does not use her magic to harm others, or for personal gain.**

"That doesn't mean that what she's doing isn't dangerous or incredibly stupid," Anders replied as he went back inside his clinic.

 **True,** Justice rumbled as Anders sat down on the cot with his lunch. **But she showed you an unexpected kindness. Do not forget it.** Anders hummed in agreement and removed the lid from the stew again, his stomach growling as he brought the container to his mouth. it was soon emptied in just four large gulps.

 

A knock on the door broke the silence of the now-empty clinic, the lantern snuffed out and sending curls of smoke into the deepening dark. Anders' head shot up from his mortar and pestle so fast that something popped; Isabela winced in sympathy and sashayed inside, her gold adornments glittering dully in the light of the fire burning by the desk.

"Isabela," he greeted her, leaning over to shuffle through the contents of the pull-out drawer. "Are you here for your ointment? I have it here somewhere..."

"No, silly," she replied, leaning against the desk, shutting the drawer with her hip. Anders pulled his hand free before it got caught, a bottle held loosely in his long fingers. His gaze traveled up Isabela's curvaceous form to settle on her face, her lips tilted upward in a smirk. "Can't I come and see my favorite pregnant mage?"

"You must be scraping the bottom of the barrel if I'm your favorite pregnant mage," Anders replied with a wry smile.

"Oh shush," Isabela laughed. "No one is better at being pregnant and magey than you." She fixed Anders with a pensive look. "How are you holding up, sweet thing? Fenris was the angriest I'd ever seen him last night. I can only imagine how that conversation went." Anders sighed and dropped his hands into his lap. 

"Well, I'm finally going to see how hard it is to raise a child by myself," he replied. "It can't be that hard, right? I see single mothers in here all the time, and they seem to know what they're doing."

"Yes, but they aren't also possessed mages running themselves ragged in a free clinic," the pirate explained. Her pensive look turned stern; Anders shifted his eyes to somewhere around her chin, focusing on her piercing. "You're going to need help with this, Anders. You can't do this alone."

"I'm not asking Fenris for help." Anders' voice was hard, his eyes glowing bluw around the edges as anger sparked under his skin like an ember. Justice roiled stormily just under the surface like a thundercloud, bright Fade cracks appearing on Anders' skin as the spirit fumed along with his his host. 

"Easy there, Justice," Isabela said calmly, her hands up in a placating gesture. "I don't know what happened to make all three of you so angry, but for now, Fenris isn't an option. You still can't do this on your own, Anders. Having a child and raising it alone is hard enough, but this....Darktown is no place to raise a family." Anders slumped in his chair, the cracks fading as the anger left as quickly as it had come. It was something he had thought of, of course; Darktown was a filthy mire of poverty and violence, the worst that Kirkwall had to offer all crammed into one place. It certainly wasn't a good place to raise a child in, but Anders and the refugee families living in it didn't have a choice. He rubbed his temple with the hand holding the bottle and exhaled wearily.

"What else can I do? I can't leave, the people here need me, Isabela. And don't tell me to get rid of it. This child shouldn't have to suffer just because both of its parents are screw-ups."

"Something tells me Justice wouldn't approve of you getting rid of it." Isabela pulled away from the desk and crouched down by the chair, looking up at Anders as he avoided her gaze. He looked even more exhausted than usual, exhausted and scared. She smiled sadly and set her hand on Anders' knee. His eyes flickered over to it, and then up to her face. Her smile changed to something tender and she gave his bony knee a squeeze. "I'm not the most reliable person, but I'll help however I can. Without a ship I'm stuck here, so you'll just have to learn how to deal with me. I know the others will help too. Hawke can't help but meddle and Merrill was so happy last night when we found out, she was radiant." Anders finally smiled, his hand coming up to cover her own.

"Merrill came by today, actually. She brought me lunch, and I only gave away a little bit of it." Isabela chuckled and shook her head. "I'll never approve of her blood magic, but she was kind to me, when I've never given her reason to be. She invited me to her home for tea."

"I'm glad. See? Already you've got a support system going. Don't isolate yourself, Anders. We'll help you." Anders nodded absently. He'd never had a support system before the Wardens; they quickly became a family of misfits, and after he had fled Ferelden to Kirkwall, he'd been on his own. It had been so long since he had people, friends, watching out for him he'd almost forgotten how nice it was to have it. He nodded again and gripped Isabela's hand.

"You're right. Thank you." Isabela smiled. 

"Of course I'm right. Now, did you say you had that ointment, because I could really--" Anders sighed and slapped the bottle into her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I typed this out on the tablet, so I apologize for any spelling/grammar errors.


	11. Chapter 11

Two weeks passed. Fenris found himself trailing behind Hawke, Isabela and Varric up the slopes of Sundermount, on the hunt for bandits. Thunder rumbled menacingly overhead, the sky covered in a low ceiling of charcoal-grey clouds. The trip had been uneventful so far, with nothing but the uneven terrain to hinder them. Ahead of the elf, Hawke and Isabela were trading the latest gossip, and Varric was scanning the sky warily.

"Think it's going to rain on us, Broody?" the dwarf asked when Fenris caught up to him.

"Without a doubt," was the elf's dry reply.

"At least it'll wash whatever blood and gore we get covered in away, right?" Varric quipped. Fenris grunted in agreement and fell in beside his friend, walking in companionable silence. "So, Fenris. I was at the market in Lowtown the other day, and you'll never guess who I saw."

"You obviously want me to guess, so....the queen of Antiva?"

"No one as unbelievable as that, I'm afraid," Varric chuckled. "I saw Anders. Have you seen him lately? He looks like shit." Fenris' foot caught on a tree root and he staggered, hopping into an unsteady gait as he regained his balance. Ahead of them, Hawke and Isabela had gone quiet, but the elf knew they were listening. 

"Why would I go out of my way to see the mage?" Fenris asked dismissively, his face schooling itself into passive indifference.

"When I asked him how he was doing, he said that he hadn't been able to keep food down for two days. I guess the morning sickness is really hitting him hard," Varric replied, ignoring Fenris' question. Fenris kept his eyes focused on the path ahead, his shoulders stiff with tension.

"Why are you telling me this?" he growled softly to Varric, who was fiddling with his gloves, pointedly not looking at the elf beside him.

"I just thought you'd like to be kept up to date about the man who's carrying your child, Broody. See how he's doing?"

"If I wanted news about the mage and his child I would ask him myself." Fenris' gauntlets creaked as he balled his hands into angry fists. "As I said before, what he does is of no concern to me." 

"Here's where you're wrong, Fenris, and I'll tell you why. You helped make that child, which means it's yours too whether you want it to be or not. You're always going to be tied to Anders now, for better or worse." Hawke and Isabela started whispering to each other, their heads pressed together conspiratorially. Fenris scowled and ignored them.

"What's your point, Varric? Shall I go and propose marriage to the mage so we might live out the rest of our days in domestic bliss, him, me and the child?" Varric barked out a laugh.

"Maker help whoever wants to marry you, Broody," the dwarf replied with a shake of his head. "They'd have to have the patience of Andraste herself or be just as broody as you are. I'm not telling you to put a ring on Blondie's finger, but you might make it easier for both of you if you tried to get along with him for once." A flash of lightning followed by a rolling boom of thunder halted the party in their tracks. Isabela cursed as a cold rain began to fall, and then they continued on their way, moving faster.

"You want me to get along with and abomination who wants to free all mages, the very same people who abused me," Fenris snarled, his mood deteriorating as quickly as the weather.

"I'm suggesting you try to understand the man who works himself to exhaustion every day healing the poor for free," Varric said calmly, finally looking up at his friend. Fenris looked every part like a cat that had been doused in water, right down to the sour expression on his face. Varric sighed. "But I can't tell you how to live your life. That's up to you." Fenris nodded curtly.

"Good. Hawke meddles in my life enough as it is, I don't need you doing it as well." Varric shook his head as Fenris slowed his pace, falling to the back of the party. The rain poured down like a grey curtain, muffling sound, until all they could hear was the deluge.

 

Anders lay in the dark of his tiny bedroom in the back of the clinic, exhausted but unable to sleep. His head hurt, his stomach hurt, his abdomen hurt, and he was hungry. The past two weeks had been a nightmare of nausea and exhaustion; unable to eat anything more than bread and apples, barely able to sleep, the mage had withered to a near-skeletal frame, made worse by the dark bags under his eyes. Long fingers prodded gently at his belly. There was a slight bump there, hidden by his tunic and coat. Anders couldn't help but wonder if it was more noticeable because of his recent weight loss or because it was a natural progression of his pregnancy, but it was there. Poking and prodding at it gave him something to do while he waited for sleep to claim him. Anders was just about to give up on sleep entirely when suddenly there came a loud pounding on the clinic door. He was up and out of bed like an arrow shot from a bow, staff in hand, magic buzzing under his skin as Justice rattled against the cage of Anders' mind. Anders didn't particularly want to drop a fireball on his clinic, but if there were templars outside, he really wouldn't have a choice--

"Anders!" The staff nearly fell from the mage's hand in surprise. That was Hawke's voice. There was more pounding on the door. "Anders, are you in there?" Anders propped the staff against the wall as he left the bedroom, hurrying through the darkened clinic on his way to the door. Opening it revealed Hawke, soaked to the bone, his fist raised to pound on the door again. Varric and Isabela stood off to the side, just as wet and panicked as Hawke. Anders' eyes widened in surprise before they fell on the shock of white hair on Hawke's shoulder, and it was then that he noticed Fenris draped loosely over the other man's shoulders, strong arms supporting the elf's weight. Anders scowled but stepped aside so his friends could enter.

"I'm so sorry," Hawke gasped as he rushed inside and over to the nearest cot. He crouched down beside it and Anders helped untangle the unconscious warrior from Hawke's armor. "I know he's the last person you want to see right now, but I didn't have a choice. It'll take more than a few potions to fix this." They maneuvered Fenris onto the cot while Varric shut and locked the clinic door. Isabela hovered nearby, wringing water out of her bandana.

"I need light to see," Anders grunted as he undid the straps on Fenris' breastplate. A glowing ball of magelight sprang to life, courtesy of Hawke. "What happened to him?"  
"Bandits, and then spiders. The bandits were easy to take care of, but I think the noise from us fighting them attracted a horde of the damn things," Hawke explained. "We were overrun, and the ground was muddy. Fenris lost his footing and he went down with one of those poisonous spiders on top of him." 

Anders dumped Fenris' scratched, dented armor onto the floor and finally got a good look at the damage his ex-lover had taken. There were deep scratched on the elf's forearms, defensive wounds from trying to protect his head. The worst injuries were on his torso, his skin flayed and bleeding, his tunic shredded to ribbons from the spider's claws and fangs. Viscous green poison lay smeared in the wounds and around Fenris' mouth, green against red. Hawke looked up at Anders worriedly. 

"Can you heal him?" Anders' hands lit with magic, hovering over Fenris' battered body. He frowned and lowered his hands.

"The poison is interfering with my magic. Whatever he swallowed will have to come out; the rest I'll have to clean out as best as I can. Varric, hand me a bed pan and a bottle of the brown stuff, next to the poultices." Varric did as he was told, handing both of the items over to the healer. Anders uncorked the bottle and the smell of tar and licorice filled the air. Everyone except Anders flinched at the smell, covering their noses with a chorus of loud groans.

"Maker's balls, Anders, what's in that stuff?" Hawke asked, his voice muffled by his hand. Isabela gagged and tied her wet bandana around her mouth, while Varric primly held his fingers under his nose. Anders' smile was grim. 

"You don't want to know. As for what it does, it's going to make him vomit. A lot. Help me get him upright." Hawke wrestled the unconscious elf back into a sitting position. Anders held the bottle under Fenris' nose and waited. After a few seconds of anticipation Fenris' nose crinkled up and his eyes flew open, wild with pain and fear.

"What-"

"Drink this," Anders said, thrusting the bottle past Fenris' lips. He tilted it up; Fenris swallowed on reflex and then jerked his head away when the taste hit his tongue. Coughing and sputtering he shot a feeble glare up at the mage, who stared stonily back at him. "Drink more of it." Fenris glared and said nothing. "Drink more or I'll pour the whole thing down your throat, you blighted elf." Fenris opened his mouth to speak and Anders lunged, grabbing Fenris' face and pouring more of the foul liquid into the injured man's mouth, making sure he swallowed it before he pulled the bottle away. Fenris choked and gasped, licking away the remaining tonic on his lips, turning angry eyes back up at Anders.

"What are you-"

"You're looking a little green around the gills there, sweet thing, Isabela remarked, bandana still around her face. Sudden, intense nausea crashed into Fenris like a brick wall, and before he could say anything in response he was heaving the contents of his stomach into the bedpan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk what was in that thing Anders forced down Fenris' throat, but anything that smells like tar and black licorice has to taste worse than it smells. It's probably not even medicinal, just something nasty Anders threw together to act as a vomiting agent, lol.


	12. Chapter 12

Anders swayed on his feet as his magic faltered and flickered out. Fenris lay supine on the cot below him, poison-free after two long hours of work. If not for the copious amounts of blood and vomit on the floor, one would think the elf was merely sleeping. No scars or blemishes marred his skin, the lyrium lines back in their usual places, a testament to Anders' skill as a healer. Hawke was a steady presence at his side, guiding the other man onto a cot adjacent to Fenris'.

"Rest, Anders," he said softly. "I'll get you some water." Anders nodded dazedly as Hawke fetched a pitcher and mug. Varric and Isabela had gone home to the Hanged Man at Hawke's behest some time ago, once it was clear that Fenris was out of danger. Anders slumped forward with his head in his hands. His eyes were gummy with exhaustion and stung when he closed them, while a dull pain throbbed steadily in the back of his head. He was no stranger to exhaustion, but it had been years since he had felt it so deep in his bones. Even Justice felt sluggish in his mind. Hawke reappeared, holding out the mug, now filled with cold water. "Anders." Blonde hair fell into his eyes as Anders lifted his head. He took the mug with trembling hands, murmured his thanks, and took a sip. Hawke sat gingerly down next to him, the cot creaking loudly under his weight.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "I couldn't trust anyone else to care for his injuries. I know you two aren't friends but-"

"It's fine, Hawke," Anders replied wearily. He rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand before dropping it into his lap. "I wouldn't turn anyone away just because I hate them. Unless they were a templar. Then I would consider it." Hawke huffed a laugh.

"Fair enough. Still, thank you. After everything that's happened between you two, I expected you to slam the door in my face."

"I'm too tired to be angry. I don't think I'd be strong enough to slam the door shut, anyway."

Hawke's tired eyes flicked over to take in Anders' gaunt, drained form, his hollow cheeks and shaking hands. He drew the other mage into his arms, frowning at the feel of Anders' bony shoulders pressing into his side. Anders smiled and closed his eyes, settling into Hawke's warmth with a tired sigh.

"When was the last time you ate? Or slept?" Hawked asked. Anders hummed thoughtfully.

"I ate two days ago. An apple and a slice of stale bread. I slept yesterday for a few hours."

"Anders," Hawke sighed heavily, "I can't say I understand what you're going through, but I know you need to eat and sleep. You're not well."

"I know that." Irritation laced Anders' voice, tired as it was. "But it's hard to keep food down, and it's hard to sleep. I'm not going to waste food on myself when there are people who need it more than I do, people who can keep it down without vomiting it back up half an hour later." Hawke sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Anders--maybe you should think about--what I mean to say is--"

"I'm not getting rid of it, Hawke. Maker's breath, how many times do I have to say it?" Hawke's arm fell back to his side as Anders stood angrily, his legs trembling as he began to pace. Hawke caught a glimpse of the man's face in the firelight, the red flush on his cheeks a sharp contrast to his sickly pale skin. "This might be my only chance to have a child, and I'm not going to get rid of it like refuse in the sewer just because I feel ill."

"But your sickness--"

"Is temporary, Hawke. I'm a healer, I know what to do in this situation, what the signs are. Thank you for your concern, but I don't appreciate everyone telling me to "get rid of it", as if it were garbage. I don't want to hear it."

"I'm sorry," Hawke said, chagrined, as he stood and went to his friend, hovering uncertainly by his side. "That was unworthy of me. I know you know what to do, I just hate seeing you so miserable. I can't do anything to help you."

"You're a "fixer", Hawke. You always have been." Anders stopped and turned, a tired smile on his face. "Believe me when I say that you are doing more than enough for me just by being here, for supporting me. I thought I could do this by myself, but it's harder than I thought it would be." His gaze lingered on Fenris' still form for a moment before returning to Hawke. Hawke watched him somberly before he reached out and touched Anders' arm, strong fingers curling too easily around the withered bicep.

"Let's get you to bed," he said quietly. "You've had a long day."

"Yes. I think I could actually sleep tonight, at least for a few hours." Anders let Hawke lead him to his cubby bedroom, when he suddenly stopped and glanced back at Fenris. "Oh, but I have to clean up the mess first-" Hawke shook his head and pushed aside the curtain. Anders' room was dim, lit by a faint ball of mage light.

"Don't worry about it. I'll clean up; you need to rest."

"But-"

"No buts, Anders." Hawke pushed on Anders' shoulders until he say down on the lumpy mattress. "Rest. I'll take care of everything." Anders opened his mouth to protest, thought better of it, and closed it with an audible click. 

"Alright. Thank you." He laid back, and Hawke drew the ragged blanket up and over his chest. His eyes slid shut with a quiet sigh as Hawke tucked him in and smoothed a large hand over lank blonde hair. Anders' hand caught his wrist as he pulled away. "Will you stay with me? At least until I fall asleep." Hawke nodded unseen and did just that.

 

Fenris woke several hours later to a pounding in his skull and sore, aching muscles in his torso. The clinic was dim when he cracked his eyes open, dim and eerily quiet. The few times that he had been down to the mage's clinic had always seen it full of people, sick, crying, dying people. Where was Anders? A low groan rumbled low in the elf's throat as he sat up, first on his elbows and then all the way, the pain in his skull drumming away with no end in sight. Fenris surveyed the clinic with weary eyes. There wasn't a soul to be found, but someone had been there recently - on a table by the cot sat a pitcher of water and, in the middle of a faintly glowing heating rune, a plate with toast and tea. He huffed out a laugh. Hawke. Always fussing over his friends like the mother hen he insisted that he wasn't. 

Ignoring the tea and toast, Fenris raised the pitcher to his mouth and guzzled the cool water like it was a wellspring in the middle of a desert. It soothed the scratchiness in his throat and helped to clear the vestiges of sleep from his mind; when half the pitcher was gone Fenris set it back on the table and glanced down at his chest. He never saw the damage that the spider did to him, but it must have been bad to warrant a trip to Anders' clinic. Only the mage could bring someone back from the brink of death and heal them without leaving any scars. The elf scowled and looked around the empty clinic again. It wasn't like the mage to leave the clinic locked during the day, unless he was out with Hawke. 

Swinging his legs over the side of the cot, Fenris stood shakily and took a step forward. His muscles ached at the movement but he stoically ignored it. Now upright, he could see his armor, gauntlets and sword resting on a chair by the head of the cot; the shredded remains of his tunic sat forlornly on top of a pile of trash to be discarded. Fenris pursed his lips. He had enough coin, he could buy another one. He had just stooped to grab his breastplate when a noise behind him and to the right made him whirl around, lyrium brands glowing white. The sound, loud in the stillness of the clinic, came from Anders' bedroom.

Grabbing his sword instead, Fenris crept silently over to the flimsy curtain barrier. He stood by the partition for a moment, listening, before he pushed aside the curtain and stepped inside the bedroom. His brands faded as he saw the source of the noise - Anders lay sprawled on his back in the middle of the bed, legs splayed and tangled in the blanket, his left arm bent upward toward his head. Fenris sighed and dropped his sword arm. Of course the mage would be in his own bed in his own clinic; where else would he be? He turned to leave, but Varric's words came back to him out of memory - "Try to understand the man who works himself to exhaustion everyday healing the poor." Fenris sighed again and, after a pause, propped his sword by the door and turned to face his slumbering ex-lover.

Anders' face was relaxed, smooth, making him look younger despite how his cheeks had sunken in. His fingers twitched as he shifted slightly, the rickety bed frame creaking in protest. The movement mad the mage's shirt ruck up, exposing the lower portion of his bony rib cage and the gentle swell of his belly. Fenris swallowed hard, his eyes fixated on Anders' stomach as the room seemed to shrink around him. It had been so easy to deny it, to pretend that it wasn't happening just because he hadn't seen the mage in two weeks. But now here was physical proof, the end result of their joining, staring back at him. 

Panic more intense than anything the elf had felt since coming to Kirkwall flooded through Fenris' body, urging him to run, but his feet stayed rooted to the floor. Sweat prickled on his forehead. He wasn't ready for this, the responsibility of a life not his own, and yet he found himself drawn to the bed, to the bump that was his growing child. The floor creaked as he stepped close, reaching out a trembling hand, close enough to feel the warmth from the mage's skin on his palm, and-

Anders stirred, stretched, and rolled onto his side. And then he opened his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from writing limbo!! After I posted the last chapter I was up to my eyeballs in work, and then I was on vacation, and then I was trying to get back into the swing of writing.


	13. Chapter 13

Anders woke slowly, his sleep blessedly dream-free after he had quickly passed out with Hawke stroking his hair. The sound of the floor creaking roused him to full wakefulness, and he stirred, rolling onto his side as he opened his eyes. His tiny bedroom was barely lit by the constantly-glowing ball of mage light hovering by the ceiling, but even so, it was enough light to illuminate his desk, the bookshelf by the curtain, Fenris looming over his bed-

Anders' eyes widened in fear and with a strangled gasp of alarm he launched himself away from the elf with such force that he fell off the far side of the bed. Anders fell off the bed but it was Justice who stood up, bathing the small space in the otherworldly blue light of the Fade. Fenris jumped back as well, his shoulder clipping the bookshelf and knocking several tomes to the floor as he fumbled for his sword. Justice's voice boomed thunderously.

**You are trespassing in Anders' quarters. What are you doing in here, elf?**

"Stay back, demon!" Fenris hissed, the lyrium in his skin glowing bright enough to rival that of the spirit. His hands tightened around the hilt of his sword as he and Justice stared each other down across Anders' bed.

**I am no demon! Who are you to call me such?**

"I've seen you, in the Chantry. You're a demon and the mage is an abomination." Fenris' lips curled in a sneer. "What did you tempt him with?"

 **I tempted Anders with nothing. We agreed to this arrangement, although he has suffered greatly because of it. What we did was not natural.** Fenris' brows furrowed together.

"What do you mean-"

 **You did not answer my question, elf. What are you doing in Anders' quarters?** Justice demanded, ignoring Fenris' response. Fenris faltered in the face of the spirit's anger. The fissures on Anders' skin crackled with the raw energy of the Fade, making his brands flare painfully.

"I wasn't trespassing. Trespassing would be correct if I were unwelcome here, but I am his patient, and I hardly have the strength to lift my sword, let alone harm him. The clinic was empty; curiosity brought me here. I simply wanted to know where the mage had gone," Fenris snapped. He kept a strong stance against the spirit, watching carefully despite the way his energy made him flinch and flex, his lyrium brands flashing dimly against the light breaking free from Anders' cheekbones. Justice crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at the elf in front of him.

 **You may lack the strength to harm him with your weapon, but I have seen your abilities. You are capable of destroying men from the inside out. Have you forgotten that you threatened Anders and the child with such violence before?** The spirit's voice was loud in the confined space, his tone brooking no arguments or falsehoods.

"I am tempted to do so again," Fenris admitted through grit teeth. Justice unfolded his arms and took a step forward, which made Fenris back up into the bookshelf again. "But I am equally tempted to....to not do so." His words were clumsy, and Fenris knew that he must have sounded more sinister than he intended, which wasn't what he wanted to be for once, and that frustration revealed itself in the perk of his snarl. "I mean, that I do not wish entirely to hurt him with every and any touch. I just wanted....I wanted to see what it felt like. The child, I mean. I don't....why am I even explaining this to you?!" Justice stopped at the foot of Anders' bed, close enough to Fenris that he could see the wariness in the elf's eyes, every clench of his jaw. The spirit's scowl morphed into a frown, and he tilted his head slightly, as if listening.

**Anders wishes to know why you care about the child so suddenly, after your previous display. I admit I am curious as well.**

"Who said that I cared?!" Fenris spat, venom dropping from every word. "I do not care, spirit, Anders, whichever one of you is asking! I am just....it exists! Whether I like it or not, it's there, and whether I like it or not, you-...Anders is going to keep it even if it kills him. And it is made of me, is it not? I simply want to understand. But I do not care! I just wanted to....feel it," he ended in a grumble, adjusting his stance anxiously. He hated talking like this, knowing that he was outnumbered, pinned before judge and jury. Fenris glared at Anders' possess body rom beneath the fall of his bangs, eyeing him with the strength of every dagger he'd ever seen. Justice stared unblinking at him, the steady light of the Fade reflecting off of Fenris' emerald eyes.

**And yet you sought him out. You could have done away with both of them before Anders awoke, yet you did not. You lie to yourself. I do not understand why Anders took you to his bed. Mortals and their desires are still unknown to me, despite my time among them.**

"You don't understand what it's like at all, demon, you've lost whatever spirit part of you ever lingered, and you can't understand what it's like to suddenly have a child with the man you loathe not because of who he is but what he is!" Fenris blurted angrily. Then, suddenly, he became quiet, a cold feeling running down his spine. He froze, staring hard at Justice as if he had tricked him on purpose.

**It is true that our merger rendered me less a spirit over time, but even so, I will never quite understand mortals. You had the chance to not have carnal relations with Anders, and yet you did. Anders cannot help being a mage, as you cannot help being an elf. Your anger is justified, if misdirected. Anders is no magister, nor will he ever be one. Were we not fighting for mage freedom, we would be fighting the Imperium. What has been done to you is unjust.**

Fenris' gaze faltered to the floor. It was true; Anders railed against Tevinter almost as much as he did about mage rights. That alone would've made him unfit for the Magisterium, to say nothing of his compassionate nature. No mage Fenris had known in Minrathous was as kind and humane as Anders was. He swallowed the lump in his throat and lifted his eyes back to Justice. The spirit 's gaze had softened somewhat, even though his stance was still with tension.

"So what now? Are you going to attack me? Finish what you started two weeks ago?" Justice shook his head.

 **Anders does not want you dead, for reasons I do not understand. I believe you came here without evil intentions, and so I will not attack you. But know this. Any harm you bring to Anders or the child will be but a minute fraction of the suffering you will earn for yourself in turn.**

Fenris nodded solemnly and crept to the curtain, not daring to turn his back on the spirit. Just as he was about to duck out of Anders' room, he stopped, deep in thought as he stared down at the mage's boots. After a tense moment he lifted his eyes to Justice's, trying to look away from the spirit's penetrating gaze. 

"Before I go....may I--" he gestured lamely at Anders' midsection. Justice paused for a moment before nodding once. 

**It is why you came here. Be quick about it.**

Fenris glared and set his sword back by the bookshelf, thankful that he wasn't wearing his gauntlets for once. Stepping forward, he hesitated for a moment before pressing a hand to Anders' stomach. The mage's skin was warm through the thin fabric of his shirt, but it wasn't enough, and Fenris lifted the flimsy cloth and pressed both of his hands to the swell of his ex-lover's belly. A shuddering breath slipped past the elf's lips. Anders skin was warm, his belly pliant to the touch but with a noticeable firmness just underneath the thin layer of fat and muscle. This was his child, half his flesh and blood growing steadily under his fingers. His mouth twitched up into a hesitant smile. Justice was still beneath Fenris' hands; they stood together long enough that the Fade light slowly died, until the mage light and the elf's brands were the only things illuminating the bedroom. Fenris lifted his head from exploration of the mage's belly to find Anders looking back at him warily, but the taller man made no move to pull away. Their gazes locked, green on gold, and then Fenris dropped his hands. Anders smoothed his shirt down over his stomach and watched as Fenris turned, picked up his sword, and disappeared into the clinic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my friend Chelsea for helping me with the dialogue in this chapter. <3


	14. Chapter 14

"I can't believe you didn't drive him away," Anders groused, punctuating each word with a twist of his arm into the mortar, the grinding sound accenting his voice in a way that his throat couldn't. The smell of embrium was strong in the air, the pleasant aroma filling every crevice of the clinic. Justice rumbled in the back of Anders' mind.

**I did not feel like he was a threat.**

"Not a--! Justice, he threatened to rip my child out of me and leave mt to bleed to death. How can not see him as a threat?"

 **If he had meant to end your life, he would have done so swiftly. I believe he was genuinely curious about you and the child.** Anders set the pestle in the mortar and covered his burgeoning abdomen with his hand. He rubbed it softly for a moment before he frowned.

"If he is curious, he should've said so before he threatened to kill me."

**Do you not think he should be given a chance to know his child?**

"Do I--! He-you-no!" Anders spluttered indignantly, picking up the mortar and grinding away angrily at the unlucky herbs. "He hates me! He wants to kill me and my child! Fenris can rot for all I care. I don't care if he wants to be part of the child's life or not. As long as I'm breathing, he'll never get the chance.

**I think you-**

"Whose side are you on, Justice?" Anders snapped, his face red with anger. "You're only saying these things because you want the lyrium in his skin." Cowed, Justice retreated, leaving his host muttering under his breath about "traitorous lyrium-addled spirits". The clinic was empty, the door locked to the public unless someone was in dire need of the healer within. Anders had taken the day off after his eventful morning with Fenris, and he'd spent the day restocking potions, washing linens, and grinding herbs. Aside from a few patients and Hawke bringing food, the mage had seen no one all day, and that suited him just fine.

Fenris' conversation with Justice had been rattling around Anders' head all day, and he was no closer to puzzling out the meaning behind the elf's actions now than he was when he had left. He had touched his belly with such unexpected gentleness, almost reverence; it was hard for Anders to reconcile it with Fenris' violent anger of two weeks ago. He'd even smiled. Fenris never smiled, at least not to Anders' knowledge. A scowl darkened Anders' face as he poured the now pulverized embrium into a pot of boiling water. Whatever Fenris did was of no concern to him, as long as he kept his hands to himself. 

**Anders.** Justice prodded Anders out of his thoughts, and the mage shook his head.

"Yes?"

 **There is someone at the door.** Anders turned his head to the door as a knock sounded on the wood. He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't even noticed the intrusion. Wiping flakes of embrium off of his hands the mage stood and strode over to the sagging doorway, the ancient locks yielding to Anders' nimble fingers. Opening the door revealed a teenage elven boy, one Anders had healed once or twice, breathless and holding a folded piece of paper.

"Message for you, healer," he gasped, thrusting the paper out for Anders to take. Anders took the letter and unfolded it - Merrill's looping script greeted him, but he ignored it in favor of the boy in front of him."

"Thank you. Are you alright? You look like you've just run a marathon." The boy nodded.

"I had to outrun a few muggers, but I'm fine," he replied with a shrug. Anders frowned.

"Do you want to stay here for a bit until you feel safe?"

"No, thanks. My mother worries whenever I leave the alienage, but I can outrun any of those shems." Anders huffed a laugh and unfolded the note, his eyes skipping over the words as he read.

_"Anders -  
I know you haven't been feeling well, so I thought I'd invite you over for tea. Oh, but if you're sick we could do it another time, or I could come to you. The market is selling those delicious crumbly cakes with the powdered sugar. Let me know!  
\- Merrill"_

Anders' lips tugged upward in a smile as he folded the note. Merrill had a sweet tooth for human pastries, whenever she could afford them. Tea and cake sounded wonderful after the harrowing events of the morning. The elven boy rocked back and forth on his heels as he waited for Anders' response. The mage tucked the note into his pocket and pulled out two copper coins which he pressed into the boy's hand.

"Tell Merrill I'll be there in an hour." The boy grinned and stuffed the coins into a pouch hanging around his neck. 

"Your word, healer!" Anders watched him run into the maze of Darktown before he turned back into the clinic, shutting the door behind him. Justice stirred, drifting to the front of the mage's consciousness.

**There is work to be do-**

"Stuff it, Justice," Anders huffed, giving the bubbling pot a vigorous stirring. "I've been in the clinic for days, and I finally feel well enough to eat and go for a walk. Didn't you say that I shouldn't forget Merrill's kindness?" Justice gave the spirit version of a glower and slunk back away.

 

Merrill opened her door an hour later, her face lighting up in a brilliant smile when she saw Anders on the other side, hands tucked in front of him. Her smile made him smile, and he ducked his head slightly in greeting.

"Hello, Merrill." 

"Lethallin! I'm so glad you could make it!" Merrill bubbled happily, covering Anders' hands with hers as she tugged him over the threshold into her home. "I was afraid you wouldn't be able to make it, Hawke said that you've been feeling wretched lately, but he didn't say you looked wretched, too. Oh!" A slim hand flew up to cover her mouth, green eyes wide as she stared at her guest. Anders chuckled as he shut the door behind him.

"It's alright, I know I look terrible. I managed to walk all the way here without being mugged, though, so it's not all bad." Merrill giggled behind her hand.

"People must think you're sick and not want to get too close."

"And Hawke says that living in Darktown doesn't have benefits." Both mages laughed, and Anders followed her to the table by the bedroom doorway, where a chipped, mismatched tea set sat next to a plate with half a dozen crumbly powdered cakes. Anders smiled as he sat down. "I see you bought the cakes." 

"They're so tasty! I always forget what the little bits of nuts are called, though."

"They're walnuts, although I've seen some that have almonds."

"Oh, that's right. They were unknown to my clan so I always forget their name." Merrill sat down next to Anders and reached for the tea pot, a white ceramic affair with a ring of pink roses circling the lid and a handle held together with adhesive. Anders held his cup steady as she poured fragrant floral tea into it, thin wisps of steam curling up toward the ceiling. He murmured his thanks and took a sip as the elf filled up her own cup. She smiled in response and pushed the cakes toward him. "Eat, Anders. You're much too thin."  
Anders plucked a cake from the top of the pile, thick powdered sugar coating his fingers as he brought the confection to his mouth and took a bite. Walnuts, cinnamon and brown sugar flooded the mage's mouth with sweetness and he groaned softly in pleasure, his eyes sliding shut.

"Maker, that's good. I wish I could have these every day." Merrill giggled around her own mouthful, her lips and chin covered in white powder.

"You could gain back some of the weight you've lost if you did," she replied after swallowing. "I'm sure Hawke would be happy to get them for you."

"He would." Anders chuckled and shoved the rest of the cake into his mouth. After devouring the morsel he picked up his tea and took a sip. "This is good tea, Merrill. What kind is it? I've never had it before."

"It's a Dalish blend, just some wildflowers and dried berries. I'm so glad you like it, it's my favorite." Silence fell between them as they sipped their tea, the hubbub of the alienage filtering in through a broken window above them. It surprised Anders that it wasn't an uncomfortable silence for once, like it usually was whenever he and Merrill spoke. It was nice to simply sit and eat and drink tea without worrying about conversation or vomiting patients staggering into the clinic.

"Anders," Merrill spoke suddenly, fixing the other mage with her green eyes. "Have you given thought to having a midwife when your baby is born?" Anders blinked in surprise and set his cup down.  
"To be honest, I haven't. I've spent the past two weeks too miserable with nausea to think that far ahead. I just figured that I would do everything myself. No midwife would help a mage give birth and not turn them into the templars afterward, anyway."

"Oh, no, lethallin! There's a midwife in the alienage who woud help!" Merrill gushed, reaching out to grasp Anders' hand. "Her name is Thallia. She's a wonderful woman, you'll like her. I've helped her deliver a few babies myself, and she's delivered mage babies, too, lots of them, and she's never sent anyone to the Circle." Anders exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and turned his hand against Merrill's to squeeze the elf's thin fingers. 

"Will she help a human mage with his half-elven child, though? I know that elves try not to mix with humans."

"She won't turn you away because of that. She might judge a little, we do try to keep elven blood pure as you said, but she won't turn you away. You've been a big help to the alienage, Anders. I think she'd be happy to help deliver your baby." Tears prickled unexpectedly at Anders' eyes and he ducked his head away from Merrill's gaze, his cheeks flaring red. Words choked in his throat as he tried to swallow past the lump of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. Merrill squeezed his hand and pressed close to his side, her green eyes wide with concern as she peered into his face.

"Don't cry, Anders! Was it something I said? I didn't mean to-"

"No." His voice was thin and strangled as he shook his head. He cleared his throat and lifted his hand from Merrill's grasp to rub hastily at his eyes. "No, you didn't--I'm sorry." He cleared his throat again and took a long sip of his tea. "The past three weeks have been hard, even with Hawke's support. It's hard to be strong, to be alone, to keep the clinic open when I can barely stand. I've been helping people, sharing their burdens, and now that I'm sharing this new life with everyone, I realize how tired I am. I realize that I don't know how to support myself on my own two feet." He sniffled and hesitantly met Merrill's gaze. "It's a wonder how I've managed this far at all, but without help from you and Hawke, I would've buckled far earlier. I don't deserve your kindness, not after how I've treated you." Merrill shook her head and reached up to cup the mage's face, the stubble of his cheek rough and scratchy against her palm.

"You have your reasons to distrust and dislike blood magic, Anders. That doesn't mean that what you've said wasn't hurtful." Anders flinched and dropped his gaze to the table.

"I'm sorr--"

"It's something that we will never agree on," Merrill interrupted, stroking her thumb across pale freckled skin. " But that doesn't mean that you don't deserve kindess. Everyone does. We're all fighting our own battles, and it's important to be kind to one another." The tears came back with a vengeance, spilling down Anders' face despite his efforts to hide them. Merrill's slim arms wrapped around his feathered shoulders and tugged the other mage close, her grip surprisingly strong as Anders shook to pieces in her embrace.

 

Late afternoon saw Anders outside Merrill's home, warm from the tea and companionship he'd found in the Dalish elf. He had spent longer than he'd planned in the alienage, and Justice was getting impatient. Merrill pressed a small drawstring bag into his hand and smiled.

"It's the last of the tea, lethallin. It should brew a couple more pots, if you use it sparingly." Anders' eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"I can't, Merrill, it's yours. You should keep it."

"It's alright! I can always ask Hawke to get e more the next time he's on Sundermount. My clan doesn't really like to take coin from me. Says it's no good to them." Her expression was pained, but she smiled anyway. Anders looked from the elf to the bag in his hand, torn between keeping the gift and giving it back, before he tucked it away into his left coat pocket.

"I'll keep it for our next visit. I can't promise to have those cakes, but we can at least have the tea." The smile that lit up Merrill's face was bright enough to rival the sun, and she nodded happily.

"I'm looking forward to it! Oh, Anders? Before you go, I wanted to ask if I could...." She held her hands out questioningly, palm out, and it took Anders a moment to realize what she was getting at.

"Oh. Go ahead." Merrill was quick to place her hands on his abdomen, rubbing and probing the small bump with the same sunny smile on her face. Anders stood awkwardly with his hands at his sides, glancing around the alienage nervously at the elves going about their business. "That's enough, Merrill. I don't want people to stare." 

"What's wrong? Do you not want people to know?" she asked, but dropped her hands as instructed. 

"Not...not yet. It's too early, something might happen, and I don't know who would let the templars know," Anders replied softly. Merrill hummed thoughtfully and nodded.

"I understand. Your secret is safe with me, Anders, and everyone here who has been healed by you. The templars take our mages away too, you know. The alienage can't afford to lose the most reliable healer they've got." 

"I know. I just..."

"You want to keep you and the baby safe." Merrill patted his arm. "I won't tell anyone, not until you're ready. Thank you for coming today, lethallin. I enjoyed it." Anders smiled softly.

"I did, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. @_@ I got really unmotivated during this chapter, probably because it's mostly dialogue and uuuuuuugh. I'm sorry for the delay; hopefully the next chapter won't take me over a month to write, but I'm going on a trip soon, so we'll see how much writing I can get done then. This was my longest chapter so far!
> 
> I'm really surprised by the friendship blooming between these two, actually. It just kind of happened, but I'm glad it did. The little cakes were inspired by Russian tea cakes and they're so gooooood. They're probably really expensive too, so they're like a treat whenever Merrill can afford them.


	15. Chapter 15

There was a mouse in the wall. Fenris had been listening to it scratching and burrowing all night long, first by the fireplace and then by his bed, as he gave up on sleep. The passge of time was marked by the wine bottles strewn across the floor, some broken, some half-full. Now, coming off of a two-day hangover, the elf's mind wasclear enough to think straight - and he was thinking about Anders. Guilt sat heavy on him like a stone when he thought of the mage's face, sleepy upon awakening and then full of fear as he tried to flee. There was a time when Fenris had wanted Anders to be afraid of him, when he would've taken pleasure in the fact that he had achieved his goal, but now his victory tasted like ashes in his mouth. Anders was afraid of him, hated him, and what did it mean, what did it mean that Fenris felt a pang of longing when he thought of the child he had helped create, a child he had threatened to destroy not that long ago? He knew what it meant, and it terrified him as sure as Danarius did.

Sighing, Fenris turned onto his side, away from the mouse chewing its way through the wall, his head pillowed on his arm. He had no memories of his life before Danarius and the lyrium carved into his skin. It was a clearly defined line in his consciousness, an insurmountable barrier that Fenris couldn't phase through. There were no memories of family, of freedom, of happiness. Lately he had been trying to recall anything about his previou life, but his efforts only frustrated him and gave him a headache. His parents were unknown to him. The thought of his own child not knowing who he was made the guilt twist inside him. There was no way he could be a father and raise a child - but now, Fenris wasn't sure if he wanted to walk away. 

Outside, the sky was beginning to lighten as dawn approached, steadily chasing away the darkness of Fenris' bedroom. Golden sunlight brightened the room by degrees as it trickled in through the hole in the ceiling. The mouse went quiet as Hightown woke up, Chantry sisters and nobles greeting each other as the day began. Fenris listened to the distant conversations, too muffled for even his elven hearing to understand, until the pealing of the Chantry bells drowned them out. Taking that as his cue, the elf kicked away the blanket and sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Fenris' mouth pulled down in a grimace. He was grimy after two days of sweating away the alcohol he'd drank, and he was starting to smell a little ripe. Ignoring the throbbing in his skull, he rose shakily from the bed and staggered out of his room, to the bathing chamber.

 

Bodahn opened the door on the third knock, bowing his head slightly as he stepped aside to let Fenris enter. 

"Good morning, messere. Messere Hawke just sat down for breakfast." The dwarf gave his guest an appraising glance. "I'll set out another plate." Fenris murmured his thanks as Bodahn shut the door and followed him down the hall and into the kitchen. Hawke sat at the table with a plate of eggs, ham, fried potatoes and biscuits, sipping a steaming mug of coffee. He looked up in surprise when Fenris entered. 

"Fenris!" The mage stood and pulled out a chair for the elf to take as Bodahn bustled about the kitchen, plating food and pouring coffee. Fenris sat at the same as Hawke, and Bodahn set the breakfast down. 

"By your leave, Messere. If you need anything else, please let me know." 

"I don't think I'll ever get used to being waited on," Hawke muttered into his coffee once Bodahn was out of ear shot. "Mother enjoys it, she had to endure thirty years of living in farm houses or on the run, but I don't like it." Fenris speared a potato with his fork and popped it into his mouth. He really wasn't in Tevinter anymore when a mage would object to being waited on.

"He is grateful to you for saving his son in the Deep Roads. This might be the only way he knows how to show his gratitude." And Maker, if the dwarf made food this good, Fenris hoped that Hawke would keep him around.

"I know. That doesn't make it any less awkward, though." Hawke held his coffee and watched his friend eat. "How are you feeling? I haven't seen you since I left you in Anders' clinic." Fenris froze. Slowly he lowered his fork and glanced at Hawke. 

"I am fine. The mage--Anders, he treated me well....except for that disgusting liquid he poured down my throat."

"He said that the poison you'd swallowed was interfering with his ability to heal you, so he had to help your body get rid of it." 

Fenris' memories of that day were blurry around the edges, but he could still remember the unbearable pain of the spider's fangs tearing into his flesh, and Hawke trying to staunch the bleeding, and then waking up in Anders' clinic to the vile potion being forced into him. It suddenly occurred to the elf that his life had been saved by two mages that night, without a second thought. After everything he had said and done to Anders over the course of the year they had known each other, after the events of two weeks ago that drove them even further apart, the mage had still healed him. Shame curled heavy in Fenris' gut. He clenched his hands until his knuckled turned white. Maybe he was little more than a wolf after all. 

"Fenris." Hawke's voice cut through the elf's thoughts. The concern Fenris saw on the other man's face made his cheeks burn red. Hawke moved his hand forward, as if to place it on the elf's shoulder, but dropped it to the table instead. "Did something happen? After you left the clinic." Fenris swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing at the motion.

"Not after I left the clinic, no. After I woke up alone, I looked for the ma--for Anders. He was sleeping, and I woke him accidentally, and...." Anders' panicked face flashed in Fenris' memory. Unable to hold Hawke's gaze he dropped his eyes to his plate of half-eaten breakfast. "Justice came out. We spoke briefly." Hawke gaped at his friend.

"Did he threaten you again?" Fenris shook his head once.

"I shouldn't be surprised that Anders told you about that. No, he didn't threaten me. Anders doesn't want me dead, he said. I don't--I don't want Anders dead, either."

"What do you want, Fenris?" Hawke asked softly.

"I..." Fenris licked his lips nervously. "I have no memory of my father. I do not want my child to look in the mirror and wonder who their father is."

"Does this mean that you want to be part of the child's life?" Hawke asked, and Fenris nodded wordlessly in response. "I'm glad to hear you say that. What if the child is a mage? You have to prepare yourself for that possibility. I'm the son of a mage, so there's a good chance your child will have magic as well." Fenris' mouth thinned into a firm line. A filthy mage child - that was what he had called it. How quickly he had changed his tune from from anger to acceptance. 

"It is not the child's fault that their parents were reckless. If the child is a mage, I will be there." He lifted his head to face Hawke. "I cannot teach the child magic, but it is my responsibility to be there for them."

"And Anders? You can't be part of your child's life without him. Like it or not, you're going to be connected to each other for the rest of your lives."

"I know." Fenris nodded. "It is as you said - if there was any doubt about Anders' ability to become pregnant, we should have been more careful. I do not think that I will be a good father, but I should be there for both of them." Hawke's face brightened in a wide smile.

"Wonderful!" He set his cup down so forcefully that hot coffee sloshed over the side and onto the table. The chair scraped loudly over the floor as he stood up. "Let's go see Anders so you two can work this out." Fenris dropped his fork in surprise.

"Now? No. I can't. Anders hates me, he is afraid of me. The demon-spirit-whatever is inside the mage seems less hostile toward me but Anders.....there is no way he would ever allow me into his life after what I did." Hawke frowned. 

"I know that he's upset, but I really don't think that Anders would keep the child away from you." Fenris worried at his bottom lip with his teeth as he studied the wood grain of the table. The elf knew deep down that Anders would never forgive him for what he'd done, and rightfully so. But there was a glimmer of hope that the mage would forgive him, that he wouldn't keep their child away from him. Fenris had never had hope before, and it frightened him as surely as being a father did. After a moment of prolonged silence he finally lifted his head to Hawke's waiting gaze. 

"I still think this is a bad idea, Hawke, but...if I wait any longer, it may be too late. I need to know if I can fix this." Hawke grinned all the way up to his eyes.

"So you're going to go talk to Anders?" Fenris nodded and stood with significantly less noise than Hawke had made earlier.

"As long as you are coming with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. I am so sorry that this chapter took well over a month for me to write. I have a clearer idea of what I want to have happen and where the story is going to go from here on out, so I'm hoping that the chapters will be easier to write, too. 
> 
> I typed this out on the tablet, so I apologize for any spelling/formatting errors. Thanks for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

Fenris shuffled from foot to foot beside Hawke as the other man knocked loudly on the clinic door. The plate of leftover breakfast that Hawke insisted on bringing was warm in the elf's hands, making them sweat into his gauntlets. The confidence he had felt in the kitchen was gone, eroded away like a riverbank in a flood with every step down the cellar stairs. It took everything he had to not drop the plate and run away. Sensing his distress, Hawke leaned down to whisper into Fenris' ear. 

"Relax. I'm here to play referee in case you two get all glowy and shouty." Fenris shot the man a glare and jumped slightly as the clinic door rolled back, revealing Anders on the other side. The mage was still unhealthily thin, but he had a light in his eyes and color on his cheeks that hadn't been there when Fenris had last seen him a few days ago. Anders smiled when he saw Hawke, but it fell from his face when his eyes slid over to the elf.

"Fenris. What are you doing here?" he asked tightly. Fenris stepped forward, nudging Hawke out of the way.

"We brought breakfast," he replied, holding the plate up. "Bodahn made too much." Anders looked from the plate to Hawke with a frown.

"What do you want, Hawke?"

"Me? I don't want anything," Hawke replied, holding his hands up. "Actually, I do want to see you eat the food and not give most of it away." He elbowed the elf beside him.   
"Fenris?" 

"Ah. Er...may we come in? I would prefer to talk in private." Anders scowled and turned back into the clinic. Hawke and Fenris followed, Hawke shutting the door behind them as they entered the empty space. The cots were half-bare, with most of the linens in a dirty heap by the boiling cauldron of water Anders used to clean the bandages and sheets. Piles of elfroot and spindleweed lay strewn about the mage's work bench, next to the empty potion bottles and pestle. Fenris set the covered plate down on the desk and looked up at Anders, who had positioned himself next to a cot with his arms crossed over his chest. He fixed the elf with a pointed stare.

"Well?"

"I--" Fenris glanced back at Hawke, who nodded. Turning back around, he cleared his throat and met Anders' gaze. "I have thinking, ma--Anders. About you and the child, and what was said between us, and-"

"You mean when you threatened to eviscerate me and leave us both to die?" Anders bit out. Fenris grimaced.

"Yes. My words were spoken out of anger and fear, my actions regrettable. I am..." Heat bloomed on his face, and he ducked his head with a cough. "I am sorry." Hawke smiled, but Anders' mouth fell open.

"Am I hearing you correctly? Did you just apologize to me?" Anders scoffed. "Who are you and what have you done with Fenris?" Biting back his standard acidic response, Fenris lifted his head and tried not to glare. He came here to talk, not to argue.

"I am of sound mind, I assure you. I also know when I am wrong, and I was wrong, Anders. I would--I would like to be part of our child's life." Fenris squared his shoulders and faced Anders head on, watching as countless emotions passed over the mage's face, too fast for the elf to read. Hawke stood forgotten by the door, observing the proceedings with a careful eye, ready to intervene if necessary. Anders stared at his ex-lover, slack-jawed, long enough for Fenris to start fidgeting, and then he broke the silence by barking out a laugh. Fenris startled at the sound of it, loud in the stillness of the clinic, and glanced back at Hawke, who shrugged and shook his head.

"You can't be serious," Anders said, all traces of mirth gone. "Two weeks ago you were calling it a creature and threatening to kill it, and now you want it to live so you can play the loving father? No. Absolutely not."

"People change, Anders," Hawke supplied helplessly. 

"They don't change that quickly, Hawke." Anders' voice dripped with bitterness. "You can't go from hating mages to wanting to have a child with one in just two weeks." He lifted his chin defiantly at Fenris' scowling face. "Why would you change your mind so quickly? I don't think it was an attack of conscience. Did Hawke put up to this?" Hawke frowned but said nothing, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Fenris' scowl worsened into a sneer, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.

""No one put me up to this, mage," he snarled. "I am here because it is the right thing to do." Anders laughed again. 

"A dog doesn't know right from wrong! You expect me to believe that you-" In a blur Fenris surged forward, brands blazing, and grabbed Anders by his feathered pauldrons, his face a mask of poorly-contained rage. Fire lit Anders' hands as his eyes burned blue, a spell half-formed on his lips when Hawke wrenched them apart, pushing Fenris back and blocking Anders with his arm.

"That's enough!" he commanded, voice not quite a shout, but enough to bring the other two up short. "No name-calling," he continued, pointing a finger in Anders' face, "and no magical fisting. No glowing from either of you. We're here to discuss something very important, and we need to behave like adults. Agreed?" Hawke held his friend's gazes until they nodded sullenly, refusing to look at each other. "Good. Why don't we sit so we can talk. This is going to take a while." Anders sat at his desk, folding his arms across his chest, while Fenris perched on the edge of a nearby cot. Hawke dragged a crate over and sat between them, glancing from one to the other before speaking again. "You both have valid reasons for being upset, but we need to try to reach common ground. This isn't just about you two anymore. Anders, why don't you start."

"He hates me and wants to kill my child," the mage sniffed indignantly. "It's as simple as that. I'm not going to let someone like that be around a child, a child that might be a mage. He'll turn them in to the templars the first chance he gets." Fenris bristled, his posture rigid with anger as he leaned forward in his seat.

"I would not turn my child over to the templars-"

"You think I deserved to be locked up, why should I think it will be any different with your own child?" Fenris snarled and raked a hand through his hair, the gauntlets catching on the fine white strands. His eyes dropped to Anders' stomach, hidden behind the man's tattered shirt. He could still feel the warmth of his ex-lover's skin beneath his hands, the swelling firmness seared into his memory. That was why he was here, and he was letting his anger get in the way - again. Fenris looked up into Anders' stormy face and took a step back.

"I didn't come here to fight, Anders," he spoke quietly. "I came here to plead a part in my child's life, if you would let me. I do not know what manner of father I could be, but I would like to try."

"You threatened to kill us, Fenris," Anders replied tightly. Justice simmered just under the surface. "How can I trust you after that? After everything you've said about mages? I grew up with a father who hated mages, and as soon as I got my magic he set the templars on me. I am not going to let what happened to me happen to this child. I would drown this city in blood to keep it safe." Gazing at the mage, watching his shoulders tremble and his eyes glisten with angry tears, Fenris had no doubts that Anders would kill him - or anyone - if they endangered the child. He also realized that there was so much about the mage that he didn't know about. Anders wasn't very forthcoming about his life before Kirkwall, but Fenris still knew less about their resident healer than the rest of the group. Three weeks ago that wouldn't have bothered him, but now it felt like an itch he couldn't scratch. Fenris nodded in understanding but a snarl caught on his lip.

"There are two disadvantages working against the child, Anders. It not only has the possibility of being a mage, but is also half-elven." Fenris' voice quavered traitorously, and he had to take a moment to squeeze his eyes shut against another outburst. The cards were already stacking against the child, simply by virtue of its parents. Abused and mistreated for being an elf, for being a mage, possibly even both. How many times had Anders spoken of the Circle, of the abuses he had seen and endured? Fenris had scoffed and written it off as the whining of the privileged, but now there was a very good chance his child could suffer the same fate as Anders had. Fear coiled heavily in his gut at the thought of it. "I would see the child protected as well. Elf-blooded children are treated cruelly in the Imperium - whipped and beaten in the streets, starved, crippled, bled dry for blood magic rituals. Most are slaves." Fenris took a deep breath and opened his eyes, fixing Anders with a steady stare. The mage stared back, frozen beneath the weight of Fenris' words. "They are treated like bred mongrels. Torn apart to see where the human stops and the elf begins. I will not let what happened to me happen to the child, Anders. I swear it." Anders' jaw clenched, but his face softened into pity and guilt as he blinked against the tears in his eyes. 

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked wetly. "I wouldn't hurt the child like that, I'm not a magister, no matter how many times you say that I'll go mad with power."

"And I will not turn the child over to the templars." Fenris looked at Anders and saw fear in the man's eyes, fear of the templars, of being caught and dragged back to imprisonment or death, fear of what would happen to him and the child. Fenris looked at Anders and saw a reflection of himself, and he marveled at how long it had taken him to see it.

"I think this is the common ground I mentioned earlier," Hawke said with a smile. "You both want to see your child safe from the trauma of your own lives; why not work together to see it through?" Anders held Fenris' gaze for a long moment, his hands clenching into white-knuckled fists, relaxing, and then clenching again. Fenris stared back, his face a vision of swirling emotions - anger, fear...hope? There was hope in the elf's green eyes, something the mage had never seen before. Anders' mouth curled into a sneer as he shook his head.

"I don't understand. If you want to be in the child's life, you'll also be in mine. Are you sure you want to shackle yourself to another mage, as you put it? You would be stuck with me for the rest of your life, and I know how much you hate me, Fenris. It would be easier for both of us if you just walked away." Fenris shook his head and took a step forward.

"I realize that, and I am prepared to do whatever it takes. I want to be there for the child, and you, if you would have me. Please, Anders." Anders' eyes widened in surprise as his gaze flickered over to Hawke for a moment before snapping back to the elf in front of him. His face was worn, tired and sad. He shook his head again.

"I can't. We're not good for each other, Fenris. Our views and opinions are too different; we can't talk to each other without it turning into a fight. I don't want to deal with that every day for the rest of my life. Do you?" He turned away, shoulders hunched, and busied himself with the papers on his desk. Fenris swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat and turned helplessly to Hawke. Hawke flashed a sympathetic smile and went to Anders' side, close enough to be comforting but not enough to touch.

"We're not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do, Anders," he spoke softly. "I came here because Fenris asked me to, so I could mediate the discussion. I want to help both of you however I can. All I ask is that you think about what Fenris has said today. I believe he's sincere about his desire to be in the child's life." Anders paused, hands clenched around his manifesto and crumpling the papers. Sighing, he set them down on the desk and smoothed the wrinkles out, his long fingers trembling over the creases. 

"Justice said the same thing," he said softly, eyes fixed on the worn wood of the table. "He thought that Fenris was curious about the child and that he wasn't a threat to us. He thinks that I should give Fenris a chance, that letting him know his child is the just thing to do." Fenris' ears twitched hopefully. Justice was turning into a surprising ally, considering two weeks ago he'd had Fenris in a choke hold. 

"You did not push me away when you let me touch you, Anders. If your spirit is incapable of lying, as you say, then surely what he says about me is the truth? My words and actions have given you no reason to trust me, but I mean you and the child no harm. I swear it." Anders' breath shuddered out of him in a wet exhale. Tears sprang to his eyes and he hastily wiped them away before turning back around. 

"I can't. This is too much, I can't-" Fenris' ears drooped in dismay.

"Let me-" Tears spilled down Anders' face, the faintest touch of blue flashing across the man's tired eyes as he shook his head. With a strangled sob he sank onto the stool by the desk and buried his head in his hands, elbows propped on knobby knees, and trembled hard enough to make his seat wobble. Fenris hovered uncertainly by the mage's side, unsure of how to comfort his ex-lover or if Anders would even want him to. Hawke solved the problem for him, dropping down to Anders' level and placing a gentle arm around his shoulders. Anders was a tactile person, but he didn't respond to Hawke's touch, and it made the worry gnawing at the elf that much worse. Hawke turned his attention from Anders to Fenris with a concerned frown. 

"Can you get him some water, please?" he asked softly. Fenris nodded and turned, scanning the disarray of the clinic for a moment before he spotted the pitcher hidden behind a half-dried bundle of embrium. The pitcher sat on a gently glowing ice rune to keep the water on the inside cold, a simple touch of kindness for the downtrodden masses that the mage served daily. After pouring a cup of the cold water, he turned to find Hawke gently rubbing Anders' back as the mage scrubbed at his red, tear-stained face. Anders looked up as Fenris approached, watching the elf with tired eyes as the warrior shuffled closer. Fenris held the cup out; Anders took it wordlessly, staring down into it as he collected himself. 

"This wasn't how I had hoped this conversation would go," Hawke said quietly. "I'm sorry, Anders. We didn't come here to make you upset." He looked pointedly up at Fenris, who nodded.

"Hawke is right. I did not come here to argue with you. You are under a great deal and my presence here is not helping you." Anders huffed a deep sigh through his nose and sipped at his water, staring down at Fenris' feet. Even after knowing the elf for over a year, he still didn't know how he could walk around barefoot, especially in Darktown.But, he thought absently as he watched Fenris' toes curl against the dirty clinic floor, there was a lot that he didn't know about his ex-lover. Their relationship had been centered around brief, rough sex, not pillow talk. Aside from their friendship with Hawke, they were practically strangers.

 **It is not too late to change that,** Justice spoke up, the first tie he had done so during the conversation. Anders frowned and set his water down on the desk. **Your differences are not insurmountable. You both have much to gain by speaking with each other, instead of arguing.**

"And if I don't?" Anders thought back in response.

**Then you will be denying a man who has had nothing his entire life the chance to know his child. Let him have this, Anders. He is sincere in his desire to make amends. It is the just thing to do.**

"The just thing to do," the mage chuckled humorlessly to himself. Fenris and Hawke exchanged confused glances but knew not to question Anders' habit of seemingly talking to himself. Anders' hand settled on his stomach, the slight bulge a comforting swell underneath his palm. He had to do what was best for the child, and that meant keeping it away from its father....but a part of him, the guilty part that Justice kept prodding, the part of him that hated slavery in all its forms, told him to give Fenris a chance. The elf had nothing to his name, no memories of his own parents. Was it wise to keep him from his own child? A child who would look in the mirror and wonder about its father? Could he look at his child and answer truthfully when it asked who their father was? Anders didn't know. He and Justice could protect the child by themselves; there was no other option. But there was an option with Fenris. There was flexibility to say no, to leave and never show himself in Kirkwall again, and it was that option that Anders clung to, even as his hand tightened into a fist against his stomach. He could always say no....or he could say yes. Dread settled in his gut even as his heart fluttered anxiously. Only time would tell if he was making an enormous mistake, but Anders was used to making mistakes. It was what had gotten him in his current situation in the first place. He swallowed audibly past the lump in his throat and lifted his head. Fenris stood in front of him, his stance guarded but his face hopeful, ears twitching slightly in anticipation or anxiety, the mage couldn't tell. He'd never seen the elf's ears do that before. "Alright. Fine. I'll give you one chance, Fenris. Don't let us down."

Relief, joy, fear, all flashed across Fenris' face and he exhaled tremulously, dragging a hand down his face. He watched as Anders let his head sink back into his hands. The mage was trembling again as he curled in on himself, and Fenris finally understood how afraid Anders really was. He had made the mage afraid of him, something he normally would've found pleasure in, but now he felt sick. As he watched Anders tremble and ignore Hawke's jostling attempt at a hug, Fenris resolved to earn Anders' trust, to provide for their child, to be a good father, the father he couldn't remember. He had made the mage afraid of him. Three weeks ago that would have brought him an immense sense of satisfaction, but now, it only brought a false sense of victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so sorry that it took me 2.5 months to finish this chapter. I start writing this in November and I work retail so everything kind of exploded on me during the holidays, and there were so many different things for these guys to say and do and I kinda got paralyzed with indecision. A huge, tremendous shout out to my friend Chelsea for editing and helping me with dialogue and letting me scream my frustrations to her. I couldn't have done this without you! ;u;
> 
> Please lest me know about any formatting errors.


	17. Chapter 17

Anders dismissed them shortly after that, quiet and sullen. Hawke and Fenris reluctantly left the mage to his own devices in the clinic as his patients began to file in, and spent the rest of the morning in the cellars, clearing our the remaining pieces of slaver equipment - a two-fold task that made them both happy and gave Fenris something to focus on besides his frayed nerves. Lunch was soup, eaten in the clinic, followed by more cleaning, and then dinner. After an awkward goodbye, Fenris retreated to his mansion to drink away the ache in his muscles. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the elf's face as he drank deeply from the bottle in his hand. Anders looked exhausted when they had parted ways after dinner, his shoulders a slumping line of weariness as he shuffled off to his closet of a bedroom. Fenris wondered idly if the mage was sleeping or not. He knew from first-hand experience in the Deep Roads that sleep didn't come easily to Anders. Fenris tightened his grip on the bottle with a frown. Anders' well being was quickly consuming his thoughts. It had been years since he had been so preoccupied with a mage's health and comfort, but this was different, and Anders was no magister. 

The sound of clinking plate armor against the background noise of Hightown caught Fenris' attention, and he turned his head towards it, ears twitching as he listened. Most likely it was the City Guard, but it might also be Templars, known to patrol the vicinity of the Chantry and into Lowtown, with the occasional foray into the sewers. A strange sense of unease settled on him, foreign and worrisome. Darktown was a place of last resort, where people went when they had no other options or didn't want to be found. Anders was right in the middle of it, hiding in plain sight from those he feared the most, risking his life to save those less fortunate souls who had been cast aside. Risking their child's life now, as well. Fenris abruptly sat upright in his chair, hastily setting the half-empty bottle on the floor by his feet. Templars, Carta, Coterie, common thugs and thieves, all preying on Darktown and living in close proximity to one of the most vulnerable men in the undercity - suddenly too close for Fenris' liking. With a grunt of effort the elf hauled himself up from his chair. He was in no position to go outside in his inebriated state, much less defend himself in a fight, but he couldn't rest knowing Anders was quite literally under his feet in potential danger. Hefting his sword onto his back, Fenris padded out of his mansion and into the warm Justinian night.

Luckily for Fenris, the trip from Hightown to Darktown was uneventful. The criminals of Kirkwall apparently took the night off, despite the crowds milling in the warm air, cooling off from the heat of the day. Summer in Kirkwall was sticky and humid, not unlike Seheron, but much more tolerable. The air became stuffy and thick with smells and fumes the farther down Fenris went, until he was picking his way through the sewers, dodging piles of refuse and filth on his way to Anders' door. What he saw when he arrived made his face slip into a deep scowl. A shadowy figure crouched in front of the clinic door, trying to pick the lock open. Anger burned like fire in Fenris' veins as he stalked silently toward the oblivious man, until he was standing right behind him.

"What do you think you're doing?" Fenris hissed icily, and the man jumped with an undignified yelp. Whirling around, he fixed the elf with a glare.

"None of your business, knife-ear. This doesn't concern you." Fenris glared back, his lip pulling back in a sneer, and quick as an arrow he had the man pulled away from the door by the back of his ratty shirt and smashed up against the wall by the dark lantern. One gauntleted hand squeezed the man's throat, the clawed tips pressing into the human's flesh. The man's eyes were wide with fear as he struggled against Fenris' iron grip, his breath coming out as shallow puffs of air. Fenris leaned close until he was nearly nose to nose with his captive, his voice quiet and dangerous.

"It concerns me a great deal when you are trying to burglarize not just the only clinic that operates in the sewers, but from a healer who is with child. Are you that desperate for coin that you would steal from a pregnant person?" The man gaped like a fish and shook his head.

"I-I'm sorry--I didn't know-please-" 

"I won't kill you. But unless you are sick or injured, I never want to see you around here again. Understood?" The man nodded as best he could and Fenris released him, watching him stagger away from the clinic, coughing and rubbing his throat. As he disappeared into the gloom, it occurred to Fenris that the human would most likely need to see Anders later for his sore throat, if he wasn't too afraid of the elf guarding the landing. Fenris turned to the locked door of the clinic. There was no apparent damage to the mechanism, which put the elf's mind at ease. He couldn't hear any noise coming from inside the clinic, either, which meant that Anders had slept through the altercation. Fenris unsheathed his sword and propped it up by the door, ready within arm's reach if he needed it as he began his long watch through the night, a silent guardian in the dark.

 

The sun rose warm and bright over Kirkwall several hours later, but it was still dim and grey in the sewers; it would be a few more hours until Darktown was wilting under the heat like the rest of the city. Fenris sat on a barrel next to the door and listened as the undercity woke up around him. Minus the earlier would-be thief, it had been an uneventful night, and the elf's thoughts were turning to his stolen mansion and comfortable bed. His eyes stung with exhaustion when he closed them, and he had just pressed his fingers to them to alleviate the burn when the sound of the lock being turned caught his attention. Fenris jumped to his feet as the door opened. Anders stood in the doorway, looking rumpled from sleep in his long night shirt and bare feet, hair loose around his face. The mage was yawning behind his hand, and as he opened his eyes, he caught sight of Fenris on the landing, looking suddenly unsure of himself. He lowered his hand.

"Fenris? What are you doing here? Are you hurt?" It really was a testament to the man's nature as a healer that he would inquire about Fenris's health, upset and wary with him as he was. Fenris shook his head.

"I am uninjured. After I left yesterday I was unable to sleep, and I thought to come back and keep watch." He shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, avoiding Anders' confused gaze.

"You couldn't sleep, so you came down here to guard the clinic?" 

"I was concerned for your safety. Darktown is dangerous, and when I arrived last night there was a prowler attempting to break in." Anders' eyebrows climbed into his hair in surprise. 

"There was?" He glanced down at the landing. "I don't see any blood. You didn't kill him?" Fenris scoffed.

"No. Leaving a pool of blood on your doorstep for you to stumble into first thing in the morning would be a bad first step in mending our relationship. I merely frightened him and told him never to come back here." Anders hummed in affirmation and brought his gaze back to the elf. He looked exhausted, his face pinched with weariness and shoulders hunched. Something softened in the mage's chest, knowing that Fenris had stood guard all night, to the detriment of his own well-being.

"You were out here all night?" Anders asked, and Fenris nodded silently. "You didn't have to do that, Fenris. I'm a big grownup mage, I can handle myself. But thank you," he added, when the elf opened his mouth to protest. "Go home and get some sleep, Fenris. You look like you're about to drop." Sleep did sound good, but Hightown might as well have been on Sundermount, it was so far away and he was so tired. Fenris nodded again.

"Do you have anything to eat? I can get you something before I go. The shops in Lowtown should be open by now." Anders looked abashed as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I gave the last of my bread away last night, before dinner." Fenris sighed heavily.

"Fasta vass. I will go and buy food and you are not to give it away to the first person who comes through the door. You need to eat too." Fenris pushed himself away from the barrel and moved toward the stairs. He was halfway down when Anders called to him. Fenris paused in his step and looked back. Anders had moved onto the landing and was chewing nervously on his bottom lip. Hesitant gold eyes met his for a moment before drifting away to somewhere around the elf's chin.

"If you get food, get enough for two. I can cook breakfast for you before you go home. It's the least I can do, after you spent all night out here." Fenris' face registered a moment of surprise, his mouth tugging upward into a brief smile. 

"As you wish."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am again, all late after another two months of no updates. I took a break from writing this because as much as I love it, it also frustrates me to no end lol. I really want to thank all of you who have read this so far, left kudos/bookmarked/subscribed and left comments. Your support means the world to me!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @ mydearwarden


	18. Story Update

Hey everyone - I'm sorry to disappoint you that this isn't a new chapter, just an update on the story itself. It's not dead, I swear. I intend on continuing it but a mix of laziness/apathy stalled me pretty bad, plus right now I'm really busy/stressed looking for a new job so I can get out of retail before Christmas. I'm so sorry it's been almost 7 months since the last update, and I promise you'll have a new chapter soonish. Thanks for sticking with me - your support means everything to me.


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